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From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard)
Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - The story begins
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Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:25:25 GMT
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Copyrighted 1992 by the authors.
WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS
by
Walter S. George
Commodore
and
Bonnie Holmyard
Lieutenant
USS Excalibur NCC 2004
FRONTIERS OF ANY TYPE, PHYSICAL OR MENTAL, ARE BUT A CHALLENGE TO
OUR BREED. NOTHING CAN STOP THE QUESTING OF MEN - NOT EVEN MAN.
IF WE WILL IT, NOT ONLY THE WONDERS OF SPACE BUT the VERY stars are
ours.
BOOK ONE
What Do You Get When You Cross a Bridge With a Starship?
*****
Q were bored. Usually they could find even the most minuscule
diversion to fill the empty timespans of an eternal existence.
Today, however, Q had failed to find anything remotely amusing.
This had been chronic for Q ever since their demeaning but brief
sojourn as a mere, mundane Human among Picard and his crew. Though
Q had restored Q's powers bringing the whole dismal escapade to a
merciful conclusion, somehow the taint of their transient mortal
travail lingered within their awareness. Though they wouldn't admit
it to themselves, Q envied the dynamic, vibrant existence of Humans
like Picard. Perhaps exposure to Humans made one susceptible to
their chaotic, fragile capers much as one succumbed to a wasting
and terminal contagion.
In their boredom, Q stretched to ease the ache of a fatigued
existence. That stretch spanned centuries and inadvertently
catalyzed an aberration in the symbiotic continuums of Where and
When. Humans had a word for such unintentional events. Q found it
most appropriate and permitted it to be expressed in their
awareness. "Oops!" Q felt the familiar tickle of glee void of even
a shred of regret at the thought of some unsuspecting being
encountering their impromptu anomaly.
They probed the space at both ends of the temporal tempest.
Indeed, there were two vessels of that Human agency known as
Starfleet within convenient distance to it. And, what have we here,
or more exactly who? SHE was on board one of those very vessels. It
was the chance of a lifetime, even that of an immortal entity. SHE
could now be taken to task for prior slights to Q and made to pay
in full. A plan precipitated in Q's consciousness in an instant,
and in the next instant Q was laughing. HE was on the other vessel!
This was just too good to be true! Two chances of a lifetime! "Make
it so," Q resolved, ever conscious of his play on words. This
should prove most amusing.
If Q were aware of what Q had in mind, they would probably
heave a collective sigh of endurance and hope that next time Q
would exercise more restraint. Q didn't care. This, possibly, could
turn out to be quite, actually, fun.
*****
USS EXCEL NCC 1722 - STARDATE 3/6703.12
"What do you mean it's moved again?" queried Captain Gary
Moudy. He had learned long ago that though patience was a virtue,
impatience was a necessity of life. "Distress call sources don't
relocate if the senders want to be rescued! It's already moved
twice since we first tracked it. Recheck your readings and report
again, Lieutenant."
"Aye, sir," Lieutenant Bonnie Holmyard replied evenly from the
starship's conn panel. She adamantly refused to let the nervousness
she was feeling seep into her tone. The waves of frustration
emanating from Captain Moudy weren't helping her control. She had
spent much valuable time and effort obtaining a post on a Galaxy
class vessel. True, USS Excel wasn't the notorious Enterprise, but
it would become just as noteworthy if she had anything to do with
it. Just now, however, she wasn't having much success at portraying
competence. The anomalous distress call, whose source WAS moving
even as she watched, seemed to be playing her for a fool. "Readings
confirmed, Captain," she related what her eyes told her, even
though she knew Moudy didn't want to hear it any more than she
wanted to say it. "The source of the distress call has moved eight
parsecs beyond its last reported position."
"Plot an intercept course, Lieutenant," Moudy said. "Prepare
to increase speed to warp factor six. We'll try to catch it before
it moves again. Mister Kemp, are you sure it IS a distress call
we're trying to respond to?"
Excel's tall hulk of a security chief stabbed at a few
controls on his security board. His voice was soft but his demeanor
deadly serious on matters of ship's safety. "Aye, Captain. It's a
text message only that reads, 'Vessel in distress. Life support
gone. Twenty already dead. Thirty survivors. Any vessel please
respond'."
"'Any vessel'," Commander Keith Foye repeated. As executive
officer he was always evaluating and analyzing the vessel's and
crews' operations. Moudy placed the highest trust in him. "That
sort of message would invite a response from unwelcome species like
the Romulans, the Ferengi, the Cardassians or even the Pakleds."
"I don't sense any of those species in the area," Counselor
Linda Kukola announced. She frowned, closed her eyes and focused
silently for a moment. "In fact I don't sense the emanations of any
specific beings. Only a general feeling of desperation, resignation
and controlled panic."
Holmyard shivered as those self-same emotions rippled through
her sensitivities as well. Sometimes she envied Kukola for being
able to openly display her Betazoid talents while Holmyard had to
conceal hers, but only sometimes. "Course laid in, Captain."
"Engage," Moudy said with a near subconscious wave of his
hand. "Commander Satok, are we able to tell what sort of vessel is
sending this distress call?"
"Nothing registers on long range sensors, Captain," came the
brisk response. Few Vulcans desired a seat on the bridge of a
starship, preferring the more sedate and academic science
positions. Satok was considered by his peers as almost a throwback
to the days before Surak and the Great Enlightening. He prided
himself on his ability to suppress those arcane Vulcan instincts
with the reason of logic and power of his mind. "It is not logical
to assume they are cloaked as they do not have sufficient power for
life support. It is possible the vessel is too small to register at
this distance or its hull composition could be invisible to our
sensors."
Kukola leaned to her right and placed a hand on Moudy's
shoulder. "I sense your impatience, Captain. Let the universe
unfold as it should."
"I'd sooner rip a hole in the universe than let it unfold by
itself," Moudy said. He suppressed the urge to shiver at Kukola's
touch. Could she sense how her barest stroke turned his insides to
emotional jelly? "But, one of my academy instructor's favorite
proverbs was, 'A short cut is the longest distance between two
points'."
The first officer caught the Vulcan's raised eyebrow. "I'll
say it for you, Satok, 'That is an illogical statement, Captain'.
But have you ever tried to take a shortcut in downtown New
Washington D.C.?"
"Okay," Moudy said with a sigh. "We'll try to chase this thing
to this next location one last time. If it's not there we'll log
the effort unfeasible and continue on to our next mission." Moudy
chewed on his lower lip, uncomfortable with the whole puzzle and
uneasy at the potential threat his gut told them Excel was rushing
headlong to confront.
*****
USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - STARDATE 2/8910.07
Excalibur rapidly, but wearily, was putting more distance
between her crew and the tribulations of the Priority Red One
mission they had just concluded. The rapidity was due to the
virtues of her transwarp drive, propelling the ship closer to the
nearest starbase, drydock and rest.
"The weariness is due more to the crew's condition than the
ship's, Commodore, with all due respect."
"Eavesdropping again, Number One?" Commodore Walter S. George
asked. Sitting in the center seat, he often availed himself of the
vista of stars rushing past on the forward viewscreen to reflect.
"Or is it you just have nothing better to do than roam around
snooping in my private thoughts?"
"It's familiar territory to me by now, sir," Commander Daniel
Blasberg returned. "I just check in there every once in a while to
make sure you don't get lost." Blasberg was by no means or measure
telepathic. He merely possessed the unnerving knack of reading
Excalibur's commanding officer like a book and then voicing aloud
the moods and thoughts he'd deciphered with uncanny accuracy.
"I know the way in and out of my own mind, thank you," George
said without taking offense. He was very well accustomed to
Blasberg's interception of his private musings. "You are right,
though. We 'are' weary after facing Organians, Klingons, renegades
and Kinshaya. I'm only less than a week out of sick bay myself." He
glanced around the bridge at the crew busy at operating a starship.
"And I am tired of losing members of my crew."
"Only two this time, sir," Blasberg said.
"Two too many, Dan," George said, his own weariness weighting
his voice. "That's too high a price to pay no matter how vital the
mission."
"This mission couldn't have been all that vital," Blasberg
said, folding his arms across his chest. "We may have seen eye to
eye with a few Klingons for a short while, but the rest of them are
still breathing threats like, 'No peace while Kirk lives'."
"The Genesis Controversy is still a touchy subject even after
the Nimbus III Crisis," George said. "People have long memories,
short fuses and little tolerance after issues like that."
"It's almost like we wasted our time not to mention the lives
of two crewmen," Blasberg added, convinced that it was so.
"Amen to that, Daniel." The vote of agreement came from the
direction of the turbolift. Excalibur's chief engineer, Commander
Timothy Riley stepped down into the bridge's lower elevation and
joined the pair there. "Most of us had a pound of flesh removed on
this last little sortie. I feel like I've had fifty pounds ripped
away myself. Even poor old Excalibur has a war wound or two to show
for her efforts."
"I assume you came here to do more than spread gloom and doom,
Tim," George said, not unkindly. He knew Riley's wounds were
emotional ones still raw from the loss of the woman he loved dearer
than life. "Do you have a status report on our repair efforts?"
"As a matter of fact I have," Riley said, pushing aside too
fresh heartaches. "I'm afraid you'll have to make do here on the
auxiliary bridge a while longer. We've managed to clear away most
of the wreckage on the main bridge but we'll either need extended
drydock time at a starbase or an entirely new bridge module
replacement. The Kinshaya were quite thorough in demolishing the
bridge."
"They were just making themselves at home," Blasberg said,
"that is, if home to them is a war zone."
"They were trapped, Daniel," Riley said. "We'd have done the
same thing to their bridge were we in their place."
"Commodore, I'm picking up a distress call," Keilah, the
Deltan communications officer reported. "Text message only."
All eyes turned towards the commodore at the announcement.
Hopes had been high that Excalibur could make it to the nearest
starbase without diversion. When they had assumed PRO mission
status they had been released from obligation to all Starfleet
regulations save the Prime Directive. Now, after crossing from
Klingon into Federation space, they were once again under the
auspices and review of Starfleet. It had been academic up to this
point. With Keilah's announcement of a distress call received, the
responsibilities of Starfleet settled on their collective, battle
weary shoulders almost as a tangible weight.
"Read the message aloud please, Mister Keilah," George said,
facing her directly and all too aware of the bridge crew's
scrutiny.
Keilah withheld a sigh and held up the PADD containing the
text of the distress call. She read slowly but clearly. "'Vessel in
distress. Life support gone. Twenty already dead. Thirty survivors.
Any vessel please respond'."
"Mister Makofsky, any vessels registering on long range
sensors besides ours?" George asked the science officer.
Makofsky consulted his panel's blinking indicators. "There are
no other vessels registering within range, Commodore."
"Great!" Blasberg exclaimed. "Once again we're the only ship
in the quadrant."
"Mister Keilah, Mister Thornburg, please coordinate to locate
the distress call's source," George requested. Sometimes the mantle
of Starfleet could be a veritable straight-jacket.
Thornburg, the navigator, swivelled his seat to face the
Commodore. "We've pinpointed the coordinates of the distress call's
source, sir. Interception course plotted and on the board."
"Lay in the course, Mister Kyhl," George said. "Ahead
transwarp factor six."
Kyhl's 'Aye, sir,' was spoken tightly and barely audibly. He
was not alone in his disappointment at their interrupted journey to
rest and relaxation.
"'Any vessel please respond'," Gelf, the Tellarite security
chief repeated. "I don't like it. It sounds suspicious."
"It's your job to be suspicious, Commander," George remarked.
"Keep up the good work, but we are still obligated to investigate.
The distress may be all too real."
"I can understand that," Blasberg voiced the thoughts he
guessed George had not chosen to vocalize. "I'm pretty distressed
myself as of a few minutes ago."
*****
USS EXCEL NCC 1722 - STARDATE 3/6703.12
"Incoming message, Captain," Kemp called out, breaking the
tense silence on the bridge as Excel closed in on the source of the
distress call.
"If it's another distress call they're out of luck," Moudy
said. "We've got one more than we can handle right now."
"It's on a priority channel," Kemp informed him. "Code red and
scrambled from Starfleet, Admiral Hansen."
Moudy looked to his left, then his right gauging the reactions
of Kukola and Foye respectively. "On screen, Mister Kemp." The
words were automatic. Now what? he thought and forced a smile.
"This is Captain Moudy commanding USS Excel. What can we do for
you, Admiral?"
"Greetings, Captain," Hansen responded from the forward
viewscreen. "You can drop whatever you're doing and set course for
Wolf Three Five Nine. And don't spare the dilithium getting here."
"We're responding to a distress call right now," Moudy said.
"But, as soon as we're through..."
"...won't be soon enough, I'm afraid," Hansen cut him off.
"Whatever the problem is there, it can in no way match the urgency
of your prompt arrival here."
"What is the nature of your emergency, Admiral?" Foye asked.
"The Borg," Hansen answered and the temperature on the bridge
chilled to the kelvin regions. "Enterprise is engaging them even as
we speak, holding them off while we amass as many starships as
possible to head those monsters off here at Wolf Three Five Nine."
"The Borg are everyone's emergency, that's a certainty," Moudy
confirmed. "We'll change course and be there as soon as we can,
Admiral."
"I pray you're in time, Captain, because we haven't got a
prayer if there aren't enough of us to stop the Borg. They're
headed for Sector Zero Zero One and we'll be the only obstacle in
their path that has a chance of stopping them." He paused, long and
dramatically. Then, simply, "Hansen out."
"Change course for Wolf Three Five Nine, Lieutenant Holmyard,"
Moudy said with a calmness unmatched to the knotted anticipation
just the thought of a Borg encounter had caused within.
"Aye, sir," Holmyard responded automatically. She proceeded to
implement the course change with half of her attention while the
other half fought to shield her sensitivities against the onslaught
of emotions mention of the Borg had evoked from the rest of the
bridge crew. How did Kukola stand it?! "Course laid in, Captain."
Moudy breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. "Ahead on that
course, warp factor nine... engage."
*****
How rude! Just like that they had given up on Q's distress
call. The other ship was still closing in on its side of the Q-warp
(as Q liked to call it), but the plan would simply not be any fun
without the ship that was even now veering away from Q's party
invitation. If Q allowed that ship to evade their grasp then they
could not exact from HER payment to them for HER impertinence and
affronts. The opportunity for just recompense was too prime to let
pass. Q smiled balefully. Not to worry. It was a simple matter of
a twisting of Where and the fleeing quarry was again headed for the
Q-warp. Phase One of Q's plan was about to begin.
*****
TO BE CONTINUED.. .
TSAO!
--
"I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to
the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime."
Leonard Cohen
ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard)
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From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard)
Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - Part II
Message-ID:
Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin)
Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:28:21 GMT
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Continuing is...
Copyrighted 1992 by George & Holmyard
WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS
PART II
RECAPPING:
How rude! Just like that they had given up on Q's distress
call. The other ship was still closing in on its side of the Q-warp
(as Q liked to call it), but the plan would simply not be any fun
without the ship that was even now veering away from Q's party
invitation. If Q allowed that ship to evade their grasp then they
could not exact from HER payment to them for HER impertinence and
affronts. The opportunity for just recompense was too prime to let
pass. Q smiled balefully. Not to worry. It was a simple matter of
a twisting of Where and the fleeing quarry was again headed for the
Q-warp. Phase One of Q's plan was about to begin.
*****
USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - STARDATE 2/8910.07
Makofsky coaxed one last set of confirming readings from his
equipment before turning to face the center seat and the man
occupying it. "We have a problem, Commodore."
"Only 'a problem'?" George asked. "That'll be a nice change of
pace. Report please, Commander."
"The source of the distress call is moving," Makofsky
answered.
"'Moving'," Blasberg said. "How can they muster the power to
move when even their life support is gone?"
"That's the problem," Makofsky replied. "They're probably
adrift and being drawn in to the spatial anomaly I've been
monitoring for the past ten minutes."
"Do we have a visual fix on it?" George asked.
"Aye, sir," Makofsky said. "I saw it almost at the same time
the sensors registered it."
"Like it just appeared out of nowhere," Riley said.
"On screen," George said and the scene on the main viewer
shifted and distorted until it refocused on an ebon ugliness
scarring the view of stars framing it. "Not a pretty sight. And you
say the source of the distress call is being pulled into that?"
"Aye, sir," Makofsky affirmed, "and it's gaining velocity the
nearer it gets. If we don't do something soon there may be nothing
we can do at all."
"Mister Kyhl, maximum speed," George said. "Mister Riley, will
we be able to pull ourselves out of the grasp of whatever that is?"
Riley stepped over to the science station and peered at
Makofsky's discovery on the screens. "It'll be a strain but unless
we cross its actual event horizon Excalibur can handle it."
George nodded once, then again, assimilating the information
at hand. "Makofsky, I want an analysis on that anomaly before we
even have to strain to escape it. Is it energy? Is it gaseous?
Where did it come from? Etcetera... Mister Gelf, prepare a tractor
beam to snare our would be rescuees. I have a feeling this is going
to be close."
"I have a feeling your feeling is right on target, Commodore,"
Blasberg said. "It just isn't natural for us to do anything but the
hard way."
"Downhill is a difficult direction to find in space, Dan,"
George said. "Besides, my autobiography would be dull reading if I
just coasted into..."
"Commodore! Look out! It's..." To Makofsky's credit, those
four words were expressed as a prelude to his unfinished warning
before the anomaly abruptly reached out across parsecs of space and
snatched Excalibur like a colossal talon snaring its prey.
Reality went spinning out of control.
*****
USS EXCEL NCC 1722 - STARDATE 3/6703.12
The computer reacted to the threat quicker than Kemp could
with its characteristic blaring klaxon and flashing red lights.
However, Kemp's words defined it more meaningfully. "Collision
alert, Captain!"
"From which vector?" Moudy asked, out of his seat, up the
circular ramp and at Kemp's side with a minimum of steps. He
frowned at the readings on the security panel. Space all around was
absolutely empty. "Is this some kind of joke, Lieutenant?" he
demanded.
Kemp punched the alarm clear pad in aggravation and
embarrassment. "The alarm refuses to clear, Captain. The computer
insists we're about to run into something dead ahead."
"There is a spatial rip opening before us, Captain," Satok
reported with Vulcan coolness.
"Evasive action, Lieutenant Holmyard," Moudy urged as he
darted back down into the command well and resumed the center seat.
Holmyard wrestled with the controls before her, dismayed that
so many variations of evasion were all ineffective. "We can't shake
it, Captain!" she shouted. "We're being dragged off course and
straight towards..."
"Captain! Sensors are picking up an Excelsior class starship
on a collision course with Excel!" Kemp's cry overrode Holmyard's.
"It's already within the rip! We'll collide in forty-five seconds!"
"Scorch it!" Moudy exclaimed. "Not even enough time to
separate the saucer or launch a log buoy. All decks brace for
impact!"
"Is this going to hurt us more than them or vice versa?" Foye
asked, figuring it was better to die smiling than screaming.
With breath-stealing rapidity, the rip swallowed Excel whole,
crew and all. And before their next heartbeat, a Starfleet
Excelsior class vessel loomed large, blotting out all other viewing
just as it surely was about to snuff out their lives in one
cataclysmic paroxysm.
*****
Q-WARP
"I'd sooner rip a hole in the universe... sooner rip a hole in
the universe... rip a hole in the universe... a hole in the
universe..."
Moudy's words dogged his ascent out of the abyss his
consciousness had plummeted in to. Tattered memories of the moments
before the collision floated on the surface of his bruised
awareness. They made him cautious about opening his eyes, dreading
the certain ruins of his beautiful Excel, not to mention her crew,
that would meet his gaze. Get it over with, man, so you can begin
at least trying to minimize the damage. Moudy opened his eyes. He
shut them and opened them again just to ensure himself his brain
registered the movement of his eyelids with the same results.
"Either I'm blind as a bat or my eyes have been knocked out of
their sockets."
"Could be worse, could be both." An answer hadn't been
expected since dead men give none. Yet, it WAS a different voice
responding. "Same difference. Did anyone get the number of that
rollercoaster that just ran over me, backed up, and ran over me
again?"
Now, Moudy wasn't sure his ears were working right. He
couldn't place a face to the voice from the dark. It wasn't Foye's,
Kukola's, Kemp's, Satok's or Holmyard's. And if it wasn't any of
theirs or his then whose was it? "Computer, lights." No response.
"The lights must be out, even the emergency ones."
"I hate it when this happens. Let me see if I can find the
manual override."
Even more puzzling, why did the voice seem to originate
overhead instead of deck level? "It may not work. It seems as if
there's no power."
"Minor details. I can only solve one dilemma at a time and...
hey! I've found someone! The hands are warm so they're still alive.
Yep, there's a pulse. Let's see, from the feel of the shoulder
rank, it's the commodore."
Something WAS definitely amiss. Shoulder rank?! And there was
no one on Excel higher than the rank of captain, being himself.
"Listen, friend either I bumped my head and thereby am still dazed
or you're the one who's confused. More to the point, I don't even
recognize your voice. Who are you anyway?"
"I must be confused," the voice from above answered. "I can't
seem to find the engineering station."
"Who are you talking to, Daniel?" It was another voice,
identification unknown. And who was Daniel?"
"Tim, welcome back to the world of the living," the first
mystery voice responded. "I'm glad you're conscious because the
lights are out, obviously, and I can't seem to locate the manual
override."
"Just a minute, you two," Moudy called out into the darkness.
"You are not to touch anything until I find out exactly who you
are."
"That doesn't sound like the commodore, Daniel," voice number
two said. "So, who does he think he is? You're number one around
here. By the way, is the commodore all right?"
"Yes, he is," a third voice said, "though I seem to have gone
blind. What's wrong with the lights?"
"They're not working," Foye's voice said. Finally! Someone
recognizable in the growing chaos of voices, "which is
understandable considering the fact we just collided with another
vessel. Can someone find the manual override?"
"We're trying," Moudy answered. "You should also be aware,
Number One, that we have unidentified intruders on the bridge."
"Well, I know Tim and the commodore," voice number one said,
"but now that you mention it, I don't have the froggiest idea who
you other two are. Where is Gelf when we need him?"
"Right here, Commander." It sounded like a Tellarite's gravely
voice. "What happened?"
"That is difficult to ascertain," Satok's voice spoke up, "but
if I am not suffering from deficient or damaged memory we are
attempting to recover from collision with an Excelsior class
vessel."
The exchange between the 'knowns' and the 'unknowns' escalated
into a virtual babel. The darkness was only making the circum-
stances more chaotic.
"At ease!" voice number three called out. Silence followed the
command. "Let's sort out some of the confusion by taking roll."
"And I'll start since I'm in command here," Moudy said. "I'm
Captain Gary Moudy and this is my bridge on my starship."
"Hold on," voice number one said. "There's only one commander
on this ship and that's Commodore George. I'm Commander Blasberg,
his number one. So, I should know."
"Never heard of him," Foye's voice said, "nor you for that
matter. I'm Captain Moudy's number one, Commander Keith Foye."
"Science officer James Makofsky, here also."
"Counselor Linda Kukola..."
"Lieutenant Commander Keilah, communications..."
"Commander Gelf, security chief..."
"No way! I'm Excel's only security chief. I'm Lieutenant
Kemp."
"Excel?! This is Excalibur and I'm the chief engineer,
Commander Riley."
"It is logical to deduce, given the absence of illumination,
that somehow bridge crews from different starships are present. I
am Lieutenant Commander Satok, bridge ops and science officer."
"That sounds reasonable, Mister Satok," Moudy said. His mind
reeled as he pieced together the circumstances. Though hard to
believe, the Commodore George WAS present even though he'd died
some five years ago. There had been a recent Starfleet bulletin
received about posthumously clearing some black mark on George's
record, though. And Blasberg...! The recently retired Commander
Starfleet was a Blasberg. Was it possible...? Suddenly things began
to make sense, although Moudy wasn't sure 'sense' was the right
word. "We must have been drawn into some sort of timewarp and then
collided with that other ship." The thought was out of his mouth
before he could stop it.
"Excalibur must be that other ship," George said. "I'm still
missing two personnel, by the way, Kyhl and Thornburg."
"And I'm missing one," Moudy said. "Where is Lieutenant
Holmyard?"
*****
Holmyard had clamped her eyes shut tighter than an Aldebaran
shellmouth. When she finally... astoundingly... opened them again
she could scarcely believe the image they were relaying to her
brain via her optic nerves.
Q!
A smile immediately wrapped itself around Q's lips. No, not a
smile, a smirk. "Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie," he taunted. Solicitously,
he levitated her from the floor, righted her and planted her
lightly on her feet. His hand reached to stroke her cheek.
Instinctively, Holmyard drew back. To think she had once
longed for his touch, craved the sound of his voice. "What have you
done?" she demanded.
"I?" he questioned, now the picture of innocence.
He's just as handsome as ever, a part of Holmyard thought,
while another part wondered why she'd even considered he'd change
such a perfect image, but the greater part ostracized its lesser
parts for for following such a path of thought. This is Q! it
shouted at her. She glared at him/it/they/whatever!
"Such thoughts, Bonnie," Q said, the disapproval falling from
his lips as casually as his hand fell from her face. Then it was
abruptly sweeping the air around them. "Welcome to my Q-warp," he
said proudly, like a child revealing his first fingerpainting. Then
he laughed, the sound bringing to Holmyard's mind memories of
ecstatically romantic evenings, the two of them bathed only in
moonlight, while simultaneously she felt the shame she'd
experienced at the Federation Council's censure. Pride won the
battle over exoticism. She tore her eyes from his hypnotic gaze.
Disorientation instantly attacked her senses. Around her were
Excel's bridge, but overlapping that image was the phantom of
another. Was she hallucinating, suffering from some sort of
distorted double-vision? There was another bridge suspended above
Excel's, an Excelsior class bridge, dangling from nothing like a
crystal chandelier. Its consoles clung to the 'ceiling' like
stalactites in a cavern above corresponding stalagmites, Excel's
consoles. And scattered throughout the colliding collage were
Excel's crew and, presumably, those of the other vessel's...
unconscious???... insensate???... dead?!?!... What HAD Q done?
Her eyes flew back to the entity who had provoked such
disarray. "What have you done?" she gasped, some part of her
acknowledging that she had spoken the words aloud, while the
greater part realized she still thought of Q as 'he'. Would she
ever learn?
"Bonnie," Q murmured again, in a tone that ALMOST captured
disappointment... despondency... disillusionment.
"You're trying too hard, Q," Holmyard said, at once trying to
stabilize her erratic reactions to Q's overpowering presence and to
the surrounding bedlam. Somehow she succeeded. "Human emotions do
not become you. I thought you'd learned that lesson, at the very
least."
"You wound me, Bonnie," Q said, but his words did not conceal
the unbounded and mischievous glee that emanated from his person
and washed in waves against Holmyard's talent.
Despite his callousness, Q did experience emotions. This,
Holmyard had learned the hard way, and that hard-learned lesson now
screamed at her. Q constantly analyzed any situation encountered
with a speed and accuracy that was as unnatural as he was. He did
so as a matter of survival and was quite gifted at concealing the
torrent of emotions such analysis, sometimes, evoked. He could,
just as easily, explode with those same emotions. Such an explosion
Holmyard had witnessed and it had shattered her life as she then
knew it. She could not let that happen again.
He was watching her, no, analyzing her even now. It was a
frightening notion that spawned and even more terrifying thought.
Q knew her all too well, but then again, she knew him too.
Intuitively, she marshalled her abilities: her inherited Betazoid
empathy, her inbred Human aptitudes, plus her Vulcan iconoclasts.
With the words, 'a matter of survival' ringing in her mind, she
turned to combat the overwhelming charisma that confronted her.
"Are you going to tell me what kind of farce you are playing,
Q, or do you intend to keep me in the dark?" she challenged
fearlessly. "If it's the latter, I refuse to interact with you."
Q did not so much as raise an eyebrow. "I'm astounded, Bonnie!
Where's your pluck, your mettle, the pugnacity I know you possess?
Are you truly willing to leave, nay JOIN your comrades in the dark
of my perpetual Q-warp? I could be lenient and spare you that you
know." His dark eyes bore into hers.
Holmyard fixed her eyes on her captain instead, comatose on
the 'ceiling' as if a command ruling had called for one and all to
take an afternoon siesta. The equally vulnerable images of Foye,
Kukola and the unknown others only added probity to the picture. It
was the overlapping phantom of that other bridge, ironically, that
forced a sense of reality, if it could be called reality, sharply
into focus. She swirled to face Q. "What do you want of me?"
"Merely finding you here is more than I could have hoped for,"
Q began, but once started there was no stopping him. "I cannot
honestly say I have thought of you often, Bonnie, or even
occasionally. As a matter of fact I completely wiped all thoughts
of you from my collective memory. That was a trial, unlike any I
have ever faced before, and one I do not EVER want to experience
again. So... I will not." He shrugged his shoulders as if
completely dismissing the matter. His next words, however, belied
that gesture. "But now that you have again happened into my
awareness, you must be made to pay for your prior, blatant
disregard."
"Blatant disregard! Now, see here, Q...!"
"I SHALL HEAR NO MORE FROM YOU!"
Suddenly, Holmyard could not speak. Instinctively, she fought
the adversity. Q smiled, and she immediately halted her struggles,
unwilling to cater to his purile need for amusement.
Q frowned. "You WILL bow to my wishes, Bonnie, and then, if
you amuse me sufficiently, I MAY be persuaded to release your
beloved comrades, although why you care so much for them is beyond
even my omniscience." He cast a disdainful eye on the scattered
bodies of her comrades. Then he arrested her gaze once more. "I
shall return, Bonnie." Q began to fade, the illumination failing
with his disappearance. "Yes, I shall return once I've decided upon
a fitting punishment. Until then remember, I alone hold the fate of
this nonessential rabble in my hands. Don't, for one minute,
entertain any other possibility."
*****
TO BE CONTINUED...
TSAO!
--
"I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to
the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime."
Leonard Cohen
ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard)
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From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard)
Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - Part III
Message-ID:
Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin)
Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:31:25 GMT
Lines: 888
Continuing is...
Copyrighted 1992 by George & Holmyard
WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS
PART III
RECAPPING:
Q frowned. "You WILL bow to my wishes, Bonnie, and then, if
you amuse me sufficiently, I MAY be persuaded to release your
beloved comrades, although why you care so much for them is beyond
even my omniscience." He cast a disdainful eye on the scattered
bodies of her comrades. Then he arrested her gaze once more. "I
shall return, Bonnie." Q began to fade, the illumination failing
with his disappearance. "Yes, I shall return once I've decided upon
a fitting punishment. Until then remember, I alone hold the fate of
this nonessential rabble in my hands. Don't, for one minute,
entertain any other possibility."
*****
L I G H T ! Brighter than white. It flared abruptly in the
shroud of darkness, overloading the sight of everyone present. The
dancing color motes obscured the vision of all and accented the
disorientation in the aftermath of the collision of their two
starships. There were more than a few cries of alarm and anguish,
save one.
"Ask a silly question," Blasberg said above the clamor,
segueing Moudy's query after Holmyard's whereabouts, "get a silly
answer."
"I'm not sure which is the lesser of two evils," Foye put in,
"being blinded by darkness or dazzled by light."
"Everyone give yourselves a moment to recover," George said.
"Look at the bright side, uh... figuratively speaking. The fact
that our eyes are functioning means we can't be all that badly
hurt."
Holmyard was reeling from her own bout with disorientation.
Only a moment before she had been standing on Excel's bridge with
Excalibur's suspended above her. Now, she was on Excalibur's
bridge. The flash of light - hallmark of Q's power - had heralded
her return. It was disturbing to see people standing on the
ceiling. Holmyard realized, from the empathic impressions she was
receiving from the upside-down people, they were just as unnerved
at a reciprocal point of view. She knew Q to be a master of time
and space but this was the most graphic display of his mastery she
had ever seen.
Moudy knuckled his eyes, wiping away the tears that had
instinctively streamed to wash away the sting of the eruption of
light. Gradually, he could see familiar forms blurring into shape
amidst the purple afterimages still imprinted on his tortured
retinas. "Commodore George is right, that is if that's really who
you are. I'll know for sure once I can get a good look at you."
"I'm certain I've never met a Captain Gary Moudy," George
said, "so how can you possibly recognize me?"
"I've seen pictures of you, sir," Moudy said, "in Starfleet
archives." What he didn't say was that he was beginning to recall
where he and the commodore had actually met. It had been some time
before, but due, currently, to the timewarp that had snared them
both, it hadn't happened in George's lifetime yet. Temporal paradox
and the Prime Directive would both be challenged if George received
that certain bit of foreknowledge.
"I'll have to take your word for that, Captain," George said.
"In the meantime, we have more pressing prob... what the...?" His
vision had recovered sufficiently for him to clearly make out the
situation. He was standing on a solid enough deck, but the
surrounding architecture was, nearly totally unfamiliar.
A pair of control panels were the first things George could
see. The viewscreen before them was dark. He turned and saw four
seats at the base of a graceful arc of a raised deck. The center
one had armrests on the side and though it was far removed from any
he knew of, it was obviously the command chair of a starship.
Behind and elevated above this command well, George could see a
bank of panels, dark as the forward viewscreen had been. There was
no mistaking the function of this room. It was the bridge of a
starship and he had seen its like only once before... in the
future. He received an additional astounding when he looked up.
Moudy was surveying his surroundings with as much incredulity.
This bridge was decades behind his own in technology. He had seen
archival holograms of it, had studied it at the Academy in the
Starship Development course. He recognized the distinct touch of
its designer... a certain Commodore Walter S. George. The very
person standing in front of... no, behind... no, beside... no...
Down being an entirely illogical direction to look, Moudy looked
up. He met the gaze of a Starfleet commodore in the old-fashioned
red tunic. Sure enough, there was the shoulder rank Blasberg had
mentioned.
"I don't think we're in Kansas, anymore," Riley said as he
completed his own absorption of his surroundings. "This is the most
unlikely fusing I've ever seen. I can't even begin to explain how
this is possible."
"I can," Holmyard spoke to the group for the first time.
"We're at the mercy of Q."
"At ease, Lieutenant!" Moudy said sternly.
"'Q'?" Makofsky repeated. "Is that someone's initial or their
full name?"
"I can't answer that question," Moudy said, then to warn the
rest of his crew, "none of us can. Lieutenant Holmyard, may I have
a word with you privately?"
"I will confer with my people as well," George said. "Between
us all maybe we can sort this whole mess out."
*****
Holmyard joined Moudy standing away from the group huddled on
the ceiling on Excel's bridge. "I know what you're going to ask,
Captain."
"Let me ask it anyway, Lieutenant," Moudy said calmly. "What
has Q got to do with all of this?"
The rest of Excel's bridge crew also clustered around.
Holmyard flinched from the scrutiny but was relieved she would only
have to explain once. "No one can explain why Q does what he...
they do."
"We have obviously attracted their interest," Satok said, "a
dubious honor we now share with the crew of USS Enterprise."
Holmyard took a moment to relish the controlled emotions she
sensed from Satok. Vulcans were always a relief to her battered
talent. "I must tell you, sir, it's me Q wants."
"You?!" Foye exclaimed. "What's so special about you,
Lieutenant?"
"Q and I have encountered one another before," Holmyard
replied. "I... disappointed him... them and they haven't forgotten
nor forgiven me for it. I'm to be punished now and, unfortunately,
the rest of you are caught in the crossfire."
"How do you know this?" Kukola asked. She had always found
Holmyard an empathic puzzle. The young woman was close with her
feelings and shielded her thoughts like an adept.
"Just a moment ago, while you were all unconscious, I saw Q
themselves," Holmyard said. "They were quite eager to flaunt their
responsibility for all this. I might be able to persuade them to
fix it all, but only if I can amuse them sufficiently."
"You will do no such thing, Holmyard!" Moudy said. "Starfleet
officers do not kowtow to terrorist tactics."
"But, captain..."
"There is no need to debate, Lieutenant!" Moudy was adamant as
iron. "We'll find our own way out of this without performing for Q
and definitely without need for their benevolence!"
*****
"Well, Commodore, this is another fine mess we've managed to
get ourselves into," Blasberg said. "If it hadn't been for that
distress call we could have been safe and sound in a starbase
drydock. Why do we have to be so dutiful and chivalrous all the
time?"
"Because it pays well," George answered, "and because we're
the good guys, remember?"
"This 'Q' must be one outstanding bad guy if he can do all
this," Riley said. "I wonder why that captain is so uppity that he
won't let us in on their little secrets."
"I don't trust any of them," Gelf grumbled. "Look at their
uniforms. They're not Starfleet issue. And if this is a Starfleet
bridge we're standing on I'll eat my phaser."
"How are we going to regain our own bridge?" Keilah asked, a
taint of resignation evident in her voice. "It's up there on the
ceiling."
"One of our many challenges," George told her, "which aren't
impossible to resolve if we maintain our bearing. And to allay your
concerns, Number One and Mister Gelf, I remind you we are in some
kind of timewarp. Since we don't recognize this place and those
people it is only common sense which relative position in time we
are encountering."
"The future," Makofsky breathed as he grasped the impact of
when they were. "Or at the very least, our time and theirs are
mingled in this warp."
"And because this is the future we're seeing," Riley said,
"they have to avoid creating a temporal paradox by revealing the
details to us. That includes the facts about Q."
"There's also the Prime Directive," Blasberg added. "They
can't let slip any advanced technology to us." He stopped suddenly,
doing some mental leaps of logic. "Commodore, is this the reason
you won't say what happened to us during that little mishap with
the Hide and Seek III wargames?"
"You know I can't answer that question, Number One," George
said. "Let's just answer the ones we can to straighten out our
current predicament."
Blasberg narrowed his eyes, certain he was on the track of
George's need for secrecy. "We can't accomplish anything just
standing here talking, with all due respect, sir."
"No, we can't," George agreed. "We need to take action. We
need to analyze this timewarp but this equipment is unfamiliar to
us." He glanced up at the knot of people on the ceiling. "Like it
or not, we need their help."
"Yeah," Gelf said. "But are they going to offer help or do we
have to coerce it out of them?"
*****
Starfleet comraderie eventually prevailed over suspicion. With
cooperation achieved between the two bridge crews much progress was
made, if one could call it progress. They quickly discovered all
exits from their respective bridges were inexplicably inaccessible.
The viewscreens, they learned were also inoperative, and neither
crew could gain access to the controls of their rightful bridges.
Excel's crew were stuck on Excalibur's auxiliary bridge. Just as
incomprehensibly, Excalibur's crew were trapped on Excel's, more
advanced, main bridge.
With Moudy's assistance, Kyhl and Thornburg were located in a
room attached to Excel's bridge the captain called the ready room
(George promised himself such a room would be constructed aboard
Excalibur at her next overhaul). The helmsman and navigator were
outwardly uninjured. Kukola probed with every ounce of her Betazed
talent. So did Holmyard, though no one knew. Kyhl and Thornburg
were diagnosed alive yet comatose. All that could be done for them,
Keilah did with her Deltan pheromones, easing any pain and
steadying any imbalance that threatened life.
As for the rest of the two starship crews, Kukola assured each
commander all were in the same condition as Kyhl and Thornburg,
comatose but otherwise unhurt. Holmyard again concurred, if only to
herself. She puzzled over this odd twist in Q's machinations. It
couldn't be compassion that motivated them. They were incapable of
acknowledging any humane emotions.
Makofsky and Satok pooled their scientific talents and probed
the warp with every sensor available to both ships. In spite of the
strictures of the Prime Directive, it was necessary for Satok to
instruct Makofsky how to operate Excel's ops panel. They learned
few facts and uncovered more enigmas about the anomaly. They did,
however, agree that the warp affected the physical structure of
both ships to produce the uncanny merging of the two, but it was
only a theory.
George, Riley and Moudy worked in tandem to ascertain the
status of Excalibur and Excel's warp engines. All was operational
but there was no telling what firing either set of engines would do
to the structural integrity of either ship.
Despite all these efforts, the only resource left to them was
mutual council. Talk deferred the feelings of desperation that the
ships were truly and eternally entombed.
"I have an idea that may help," Riley said after a while. Time
within the strange warp was irrelevant. Hours could have passed,
even days by now.
"At this point any idea is a welcome one," Moudy said. At
George's invitation Moudy had seated himself in Excailbur's center
seat. Moudy had reciprocated and allowed the commodore to sit in
Excel's command chair. It was from that center seat that George now
spoke.
"We're stuck like scarabs in amber," he commented drily.
"We'll have the rest of our lives to discuss ideas. Let's hear
yours, Tim."
"We've been going about this the wrong way," Riley said. He
was seated at ops. "We've been trying to pull away from each other,
or use the transporter to exchange places, or even use what amounts
to brute force to wrestle our way out of this insane space."
"Yes, that about sums it up," Foye agreed. "None of those
methods worked. So why remind us of our failures?"
"What we haven't tried is using the warp to augment our
efforts," Riley went on patiently. "From what I've seen of the
readings, it is very similar in make up to the fields produced by
our own warp drives."
"That's true," Makofsky said. "It's been driving me crazy
trying to pinpoint the power source for this warp. If we could find
that, maybe we could disable it and shut down the warp."
The source of power is Q, Holmyard thought, and theirs was a
power to be reckoned with. Devious did in no way relate the
workings of their collective ingenuity. Q must have known and
counted on Captain Moudy prohibiting knowledge of the Q Continuum
be passed to Excalibur's crew, and without that shared knowledge
both crews were defeated before they even began. If only she could
persuade the captain to permit her to bargain with Q, but...
"But what I'm saying is, let's use that power to our
advantage." It was easy to see that Riley was warming up to his
idea. "Instead of fighting it, let's complete what the warp
started."
Blasberg, seated on the commodore's right, encouraged
Excalibur's chief engineer. "I'm beginning to get the picture, Tim.
We've been fighting the current rather than going with the flow."
"Right, Daniel," Riley accorded enthusiastically. "Let's tap
that power with our warp drives and follow through with this
merging. I'll bet if we do that we'll not only pass both ships
completely through each other, we'll all emerge outside the warp!"
He frowned and shifted in his seat at the commodore's left, more
from mental reluctance than physical discomfort. "I have to advise
you there is a small chance that this scheme could destroy us all."
"How much of a chance, Tim?" George asked calmly, ready to
absorb the facts of the risk.
"Eighty-three point four four zero nine percent," Satok
supplied.
"Good plan, over all," Moudy said. "One other problem. What if
we don't emerge in our respective times?"
"At least we'll be free of the warp," George said, "and free
to go on with our lives in whatever time we do find ourselves. The
only alternative is to enjoy each others' company here for the rest
of our lives."
"We know enough to operate Excalibur's warp drive," Satok
said, "but Excel's warp drive is advanced compared to Excalibur's.
Therefore only a crewman from Excel can operate it with the skill
and precision necessary to accomplish Commander Riley's plan."
"Commodore, with your permission, we can operate Excel's warp
drive with Excalibur's command panel," Moudy offered, "but in order
to access that, I will need Excalibur's prefix code."
George felt an instinctive reluctance to reveal the code
sequence that would give a stranger unlimited command of his ship.
He fought and won an internal struggle in favor of the possibility
of their release from the warp. "I agree, Captain," he finally
allowed. "I'll place my trust and all of our lives in your hands
and give you the prefix code."
*****
Holmyard sensed the laughter before she heard it. Q! To assist
in masqueing any stray expression betraying her alarm, she turned
to face the station at which she sat. Surreptitiously, she looked
to Kukola for any sign that the counselor shared the empathic
experience. The sound of Q's laughter became reality before
Holmyard's brain could confirm that she alone sensed the obscene
joviality. Simultaneously, she saw Q fade into her awareness as the
venue of the merged starships faded out. With one crook of his
finger, Q siphoned her essence out of her body and drew her toward
him...
Not HIM, she shouted to herself, THEM! This is 'THE' Q!
His laughter (THEIR laughter!) rolled over her again as she
suddenly found herself at his side (THEIR side!). Try as she might,
Holmyard could not help but segregate this avatar of the Q
Continuum from the rest of their selves. The charisma of his/their
personal proximity overwhelmed the thin demarcation between 'he'
and 'they'.
Both Q and Holmyard were now suspended above the scene around
them. Obviously invisible, they looked down at the assembly of
Excel and Excalibur's crews, herself included!?! Her body, as solid
as ever, still sat at Excalibur's communications station, her back
turned from the conference as if she were intently studying the
panel in front of her. Would anyone notice?
"No," Q answered, exposing her fears and invading the sanctity
of her thoughts. "No one will notice."
Her eyes flashed to his and she almost lost herself to their
hypnotic power. "What do you want this time?" she demanded with
venomous ice in her tone.
"What is this 'prefix code'?" Q asked, ignoring her question
and outrage.
Holmyard followed suit. "What do you want?" she repeated
purposely shielding all knowledge of the code from her mind. She
must get Q to concentrate on her while the commodore passed the
information.
Q smiled a smile that made Holmyard melt inside, as much
though she fought it. "Touche'!" he responded and without warning
wrapped her in his embrace.
For Holmyard the embrace contained both heaven and hell. Q's
eyes pierced hers as his lips moved closer and closer to her own.
'Fight him off' was a thought only, never a possibility, before
contact was made and she was swept away. She saw only the twinkle
of stars in his eyes, stars that became a galaxy, a galaxy that
unfolded before her, around her, engulfed her. She felt his sigh of
pleasure and could not stop, did not want to stop her own.
The passion deepened as her eyes fell shut and, seemingly, a
warm breeze flowed out of him to caress her... inwardly...
outwardly... was there a difference?... did it matter?... did
anything matter?
YES! a part of her screamed and somehow she forced her eyes
open, to find his still filled with stars and staring into her own.
NOOOOOO!
Q broke the touch and to Holmyard's horror she found they were
now in space, surrounded by the stars she had seen reflected in his
eyes. Space! Vacuum! Death! Instinctively, she clung to him.
"Nothing will harm you while you are with me," Q breathed into
her face. "That will never change."
Holmyard sensed the truth of his words... and something
else?!? Abruptly, he shoved her from his collective being.
"Look!" Q commanded, his hand and arm rising to point at a
disturbance in space that Holmyard could hardly fathom.
As overwhelmed as she was by the fact that she 'stood'
unprotected in space, she was nonetheless mesmerized by the
spectacle before her. She stared at it, unwilling to believe but
unable to deny what her senses, both Human and Betazoid, screamed
at her. She saw two starships, one on top of the other and from
them... frustration... controlled fear... suppressed terror...
total abandonment... assaulted her empathic senses, overpowering
the visual image.
Still, her head turned reflexively, trying to make sense of
the image while her Vulcan training innately blocked the onslaught
of emotions. Then her eyes opened wide as she understood. From her
relative perspective, Excalibur hovered in space, upside-down,
while overlapping that confusing conception was another starship,
Excel, and their saucer sections were fused.
"Isn't it amusing?" Q reflected joyously. "Isn't it grand?"
Holmyard hardly heard him. Not HIM, that part of her insisted
and it was to that part she listened. Grand!? Amusing!? It was an
atrocity! He/It/They/Q were an atrocity! How dare she allow herself
to be drawn into their power again!?
"Your thoughts do not amuse me, Bonnie," Q said with an abrupt
change of emotion. Gone were his/their amusement, as were the stars
in his/their eyes. Now there were daggers - for a moment an actual
image of menacing, sharpened daggers - of malice, "and after I
brought you out here to warn you."
"Warn me? About what?"
"Riley's plan will not work."
"And I'm supposed to believe YOU?"
"Believe this: I won't let it work." Q stared at Holmyard, the
daggers fading from his eyes, his lips curling into a smirk. "I
told you I alone hold their fate in my hands." He held out his
hands and the melded starships appeared therein, miniaturized and
vulnerable. "You believe that, don't you, Bonnie?"
She wanted to shout, NO! "Yes," she breathlessly voiced, less
a breath could sway him/them toward the darker outcome of his/their
amusement.
"Then believe me when I say, the plan won't work. The ships
WILL be destroyed, unless..."
"What?" Holmyard sensed another abrupt change in emotion from
him - unrestrained glee. She gazed upon the defenseless starships
clutched in the hands of this amoral entity. It made her shudder.
"I've decided on your punishment, Bonnie, my love. You must
now decide if your fate is worth the exchange of the fates of your
comrades."
Suddenly, they were back inside the intersected ships, once
more floating in the center 'above' each bridge.
"Progress, anyone?" Commodore George was asking. Everyone
manned their respective, if opposite, stations. Apparently no one
had noticed her 'absence'.
"I told you so," Q taunted, just as Satok, Excel's science
officer responded to George's query.
"One minute, Commodore, and counting."
"You have one minute, Bonnie," Q pronounced. "What's it going
to be? Their destruction? Their freedom? Your option, my love."
A hundred things were going through Holmyard's mind but first
and foremost were Captain Moudy's orders. 'You will do no such
thing! We'll find our own way out of this without performing for Q
and definitely without need for their benevolence.' How ironic that
it is Q's malevolence that now threatens to tip the balances
against our survival, Holmyard mused.
"Your captain's such a spoil sport," Q acknowledged her
thoughts, "but just to prove how benevolent I can be, I give you my
word that, if you freely bow to my judgment upon you, I will erase
all knowledge of my little Q-warp from their minds. They will
recall nothing. Otherwise, well, you know how malevolent I can be."
"Thirty seconds," Satok called out.
"As if your word was worth anything!" Holmyard charged.
Q merely shrugged their shoulders and grinned. He/They held
out their hand, palm up, and began to slowly clench his/their
fingers into a fist.
"Twenty seconds." This from Riley.
Tension washed in waves over Holmyard. Both crews knew their
lives were on line with this maneuver. Their stress was only kept
in check by their desperation. "You'll return each ship to its
rightful time?"
Q's grin widened. "Each ship... yes."
"Ten..."
"And their respective crews?" Holmyard pressed.
"Nine..."
"Everyone will be Where and When they belong," Q responded
cryptically.
Holmyard's eyes fell shut. She had no idea what she was
condemning herself to, but she did know what the ships would face
if she did not do as Q commanded.
"Six..."
"Five seconds left, Bonnie," Q gibed. "I can wait forever. You
don't have the luxury."
"Four..."
"I'm yours, Q," Holmyard sighed, not bearing to open her eyes
and see the triumph in Q's.
"Zero," Riley pronounced.
"Engage," Commodore George and Captain Moudy ordered in
tandem.
Q closed their fist.
*****
TO BE CONTINUED...
TSAO!
--
"I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to
the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime."
Leonard Cohen
ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard)
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From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard)
Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - Part IV
Message-ID:
Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin)
Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:33:39 GMT
Lines: 512
Continuing is...
Copywrited 1992 by George & Holmyard
WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS
PART IV
RECAPPING:
"Five seconds left, Bonnie," Q gibed. "I can wait forever. You
don't have the luxury."
"Four..."
"I'm yours, Q," Holmyard sighed, not bearing to open her eyes
and see the triumph in Q's.
"Zero," Riley pronounced.
"Engage," Commodore George and Captain Moudy ordered in
tandem.
Q closed their fist.
*****
BOOK TWO
The Other Side
*****
USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - STARDATE 2/8910.07
Makofsky coaxed one last set of confirming readings from his
equipment before turning to face the center seat and the man
occupying it. "We have a problem, Commodore."
"Only 'a problem'?" George asked. "That'll be a nice change of
pace. Report please, Commander."
"The source of the distress call is moving," Makofsky
answered.
"'Moving'," Blasberg said. "How can they muster the power to
move when even their life support is gone?"
"That's the problem," Makofsky replied. "They're probably
adrift and being drawn in to the spatial anomaly I've been
monitoring for the past ten minutes."
"Do we have a visual fix on it?" George asked.
"Aye, sir," Makofsky said. "I saw it almost at the same time
the sensors registered it."
"Like it just appeared out of nowhere," Riley said.
"On screen," George said and the scene on the main viewer
shifted and distorted until it refocused on an ebon ugliness
scarring the view of stars framing it. "Not a pretty sight. And you
say the source of the distress call is being pulled into that?"
"Aye, sir," Makofsky affirmed, "and it's gaining velocity the
nearer it gets. If we don't do something soon there may be nothing
we can do at all."
"Mister Kyhl, maximum speed," George said. "Mister Riley, will
we be able to pull ourselves out of the grasp of whatever that is?"
Riley stepped over to the science station and peered at
Makofsky's discovery on the screens. "It'll be a strain but unless
we cross its actual event horizon Excalibur can handle it."
George nodded once, then again, assimilating the information
at hand. "Makofsky, I want an analysis on that anomaly before we
even have to strain to escape it. Is it energy? Is it gaseous?
Where did it come from? Etcetera... Mister Gelf, prepare a tractor
beam to snare our would be rescuees. I have a feeling this is going
to be close."
"I have a feeling your feeling is right on target, Commodore,"
Blasberg said. "It just isn't natural for us to do anything but the
hard way."
"Downhill is a difficult direction to find in space, Dan,"
George said. "Besides, my autobiography would be dull reading if I
just coasted into..."
"Commodore! I've lost the signal," Keilah announced. "It was
there strong as ever then it simply cut off."
An apprehensive tingle crawled up George's spine and diffused
over the top of his scalp. Oddly enough, he felt like some great
catastrophe had just been averted. "Science officer, any trace of
an explosion at the distress call's source?"
Makofsky spent an inordinate amount of time nursing readings
from his equipment before responding. "Sensors were tracking...
something. It's simply vanished without a trace. So has the
anomaly. I don't understand it."
"First it just appeared," Riley said. "Now it's disappeared."
"That's ridiculous," Blasberg fumed. "Things don't simply
vanish without explanation!"
"We've wasted enough time searching for... whatever it was,"
George said. "We won't waste any more trying to explain why it
suddenly isn't there to search for. Mister Kyhl, reverse course.
Let's head for the nearest starbase before something else deters
us."
"Aye, sir," Kyhl responded and set the course with great
relief.
"It was a general distress call anyway," Keilah said. "It
could simply have been transmitted by an old recorder marker that
finally gave out."
"Or it could have been some obscure alien trick," Blasberg
said. "I hate it when that happens."
Further speculation was aborted by the collision alert klaxon.
Gelf made a deftly swift scan of the security station. "Vessel dead
ahead, Commodore. Excelsior class. Speed immeasurable."
"Evasives, Mister Kyhl," George said. "'Speed immeasurable'?
How can something move so fast we can't track it yet the proximity
alert warns of imminent collision? Mister Keilah, open hailing
frequencies. Try to warn them off."
"Too late!" Blasberg shouted. "Look!"
The onrushing vessel abruptly appeared on the viewscreen as if
it had suddenly popped into existence directly in Excalibur's path.
A collision was unavoidable. Death was more than a certainty. It
was destiny.
*****
Excalibur collided with destiny like a hand passing through a
waterfall. Something washed over the starship, but it wasn't death.
"All stop!" George called out as soon as he realized he could
do so, not being dead and all. "Status, Number One?"
"We're alive!"
"Obviously, Number One." George turned to the science station.
"What was that, Mister Makofsky?"
This time the science officer answered immediately. "Unknown,
sir. All apparatus went off-line for the duration of whatever it
was and now report all normal."
"What's normal about that?" Riley demanded.
"Not a thing," George concurred. "Mister Makofsky, run
diagnostic checks on all systems. Mister Riley, check out all
stations. Mister Keilah, damage or casualty reports?"
No response. George turned slowly toward the communications
station, expecting to see Keilah busy receiving the reports in
question.
The person occupying the post was neither Keilah nor Deltan.
He fought to restrain a betraying reaction of astonishment. Though
her uniform was not standard current Starfleet issue, it WAS one he
recognized. He had seen (will have seen?) its like once before but
the Prime Directive constrained him from revealing to anyone Where
and When.
That was all he had time to note, that and her angry
expression. Then Gelf was at her side, an arresting hoof on her
shoulder. In three strides, Blasberg joined the Tellarite security
chief in confronting the intruder. "Who are you? Where did you come
from? Where is Lieutenant Commander Keilah?"
"Ease off, Dan," George coaxed as he too arrived at the
communications station. Blasberg bristled but complied. George
turned his glance to Gelf, touching briefly on the intruder in the
motion. She was, he noted, studying Blasberg, intently.
"Mister Gelf," he said evenly, "your reaction time is, as
always, highly commendable." George insinuated his presence between
the intruder and his officers. "Let me handle this, please." He
extended his hands in the direction of each officer's shoulders.
They stepped back, but only a little. Both were still very much on
the defensive. George scanned the bridge. Riley, Kyhl, Thornburg
and Makofsky were all scrutinizing the tableau. All were ready to
act if the commodore was placed in jeopardy. He had to do something
to defuse the situation.
Keeping his position as buffer, George turned back to the
intruder. He glanced at the rank on her collar, two silver pips.
"Lieutenant...?" he questioned.
"Holmyard, sir."
"Lieutenant?!" Blasberg protested.
George ignored the outburst. "Lieutenant Holmyard, can you
offer any explanation for your appearance Here and Now?"
"And for the disappearance of our communications officer?"
Blasberg added.
No hesitation. "I cannot answer that question, sir."
"Just a blasted minute!" Blasberg exclaimed and pressed
forward.
George turned to him, caught his executive officer's gaze, and
raised an eyebrow. Blasberg took the hint and exercised restraint,
barely. The commodore continued. "Something prevents you?"
Her eyes flickered to the first officer before she answered.
"I cannot answer that question, sir."
Holmyard's manner of responding was not lost on George. If
anything it reinforced what he suspected to be true. "Is it
possible for me to convince you otherwise?" She hesitated. He
discerned her inner debate, seized on that chink in her fortitude,
and cast about for a way around what limited her responsiveness.
"What if I arranged to ask my questions in private, Lieutenant?" He
emphasized his use of her rank, hoping she would pick up on the
fact he recognized her uniform for What and When it was.
"Commodore!" This time it was Makofsky who interrupted.
George immediately glanced at the science officer, who
motioned that he too wanted to speak in private. What now? To
Holmyard, "Consider what I've said." Then he was responding to
Makofsky's request. "Yes, Commander?" he asked, bending down to
examine the station monitors.
"Sir," came the whispered reply, "ship's sensors indicate
there are currently eight people on the bridge. The rest of the
ship is empty."
"Empty!" George somehow whispered in return.
"Yes, sir."
"Explanation?"
"None."
"Find one!" George was disliking the situation more and more
as events unfolded. The distress call, its disappearance, the
collision alert and subsequent giant question mark, Keilah's
disappearance, Holmyard's appearance, and now either the rest of my
crew have also disappeared or Excalibur's interior scanners are
down. Somehow, it all ties together. His gaze moved to Holmyard.
What does she know?
"Are you now willing to answer my questions, Lieutenant?"
George asked as he returned to the trio at the communications
station.
"In private, sir," she responded.
"Then, would you be kind enough to allow my security chief to
escort you to a more private location?"
"Sir." Holmyard rose to attention.
George's sense of reality argued with his logic but could find
no flaw. Holmyard WAS from the very future he himself had sojourned
in recently. This presented endless questions and problems
unlimited, the first being the dictates of the Prime Directive.
"Mister Gelf," he said, "please escort Lieutenant Holmyard to
briefing room one."
"Commodore, with all due respect..."
"One moment, Commander Blasberg," George said, turned to tell
Gelf they could leave but was silenced by Holmyard's startled
expression. She was now staring at Blasberg in absolute
astonishment. "Is there a problem, Lieutenant?" he asked.
Her eyes flew to his and for one brief moment he saw the
terror in their depths. Then it was masterfully concealed. "No,
sir," she replied.
George felt his misgivings rise. Something wasn't right here,
but what WAS going right today? "Very well," he said. One thing at
a time. "On your way, Mister Gelf." He watched Gelf and Holmyard
leave and then turned to meet Blasberg's pointed glare. He pulled
them both into a secluded corner of the bridge. "Mister Makofsky
has just reported that the bridge crew and the intruder are the
only lifesigns detectable on this ship." A pause to let the
revelation register. "You, Number One, and Commander Riley will
take care of that problem while I interview Holmyard."
"Would it do any good to protest, sir?"
"Protest noted and overruled."
"As your first officer it is my duty to..."
"...safeguard my well being," George cut in. "Let me remind
you that lifeguard duty extends to the crew of this ship as well as
your commanding officer. That crew is missing and that demands
immediate investigation." He did not like having to adopt this
tactic with his second-in-command but experience had taught there
was no other expedient way.
"With all due respect, sir," Blasberg argued, "Holmyard could
be the cause of all that has happened, yet you extend to her
courtesy based on what?... your belief she's an officer? Of what
fleet? Where do her loyalties lie? What makes you so sure she's as
she appears? And why are you so willing to place yourself in a
potentially dangerous situation?"
"I cannot answer your questions at this time."
Blasberg's whole demeanor changed. His frustration vanished.
Instantly he became reflective. "I've only heard you phrase that
particular denial once before, Commodore."
As much as Blasberg was seemingly able to read the commodore's
thoughts, so too could George read his first officer. More
questions were formulating; insightful, intuitive questions;
questions George could not allow himself to answer. Time to grab
the bull by the horns.
"I am going to speak with Lieutenant Holmyard alone, Dan,"
George said, "and that means just her and I." He watched the chaos
of emotions play over Blasberg's face, identified with those
emotions, but pushed his empathy aside. "Please don't press it
further, Dan. I can't answer those questions I see seething in your
eyes. Log your objections as you see fit, but I want you to remain
here and find our crew." He grasped Blasberg's shoulder. "I need
you HERE, Dan."
Blasberg let the fire remain in his eyes, but mellowed his
tone. "I agree, Commodore. You need me. But keep in mind, we need
you as well. So, go ahead and interview Holmyard by your lonesome,
but if she goes for your throat, don't say I didn't warn you."
*****
TO BE CONTINUED...
TSAO!
--
"I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to
the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime."
Leonard Cohen
ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard)
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From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard)
Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC2004 - Part V
Message-ID:
Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin)
Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:37:14 GMT
Lines: 1026
Continuing is...
Copywrited 1992 by George & Holmyard
WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS
PART V
RECAPPING:
"I am going to speak with Lieutenant Holmyard alone, Dan,"
George said, "and that means just her and I." He watched the chaos
of emotions play over Blasberg's face, identified with those
emotions, but pushed his empathy aside. "Please don't press it
further, Dan. I can't answer those questions I see seething in your
eyes. Log your objections as you see fit, but I want you to remain
here and find our crew." He grasped Blasberg's shoulder. "I need
you HERE, Dan."
Blasberg let the fire remain in his eyes, but mellowed his
tone. "I agree, Commodore. You need me. But keep in mind, we need
you as well. So, go ahead and interview Holmyard by your lonesome,
but if she goes for your throat, don't say I didn't warn you."
*****
Blasberg! Blasberg! Blasberg! Blasberg! The name ran in
circles in Holmyard's befuddled mind. She'd thought he'd looked
familiar, but Blasberg! The last time she saw Blasberg he was
Admiral Blasberg, Commander Starfleet! The very same Commander
Starfleet who had chaired the joint Court Martial/Competency Review
Board she had faced because of Q!
As if on cue, SEDUCTION assaulted her senses and Q crowed,
"Isn't this fun?!"
The Tellarite security chief was gone. Now it was Q who held
her arm and, as usual, his touch sent her reality reeling. She
pulled her arm from his grasp and allowed her anger to quell the
pervertedness of his touch.
"Pervertedness!" Q snorted. "Really!"
"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.
Q's instantly revitalized mirth washed over her. "THIS is your
punishment, Bonnie, my love."
"Punishment for what?"
"Your prior effrontery to the Q."
"Oh, so it's 'the' Q now, is it?"
"I don't like your tone."
"Get used to it, Q. I'm not the naive, trusting soul I was the
last time we met." Prove it Holmyard, she silently admonished
herself as flashes of the months she's spent in counseling because
of that encounter flitted through her mind. Practice what you
preach. "Unlike you, I've been apprised of your comings and goings.
Quite frankly, 'the' Q disappoints me."
"I?! Disappoint you?!"
"Immaterial," Holmyard shrugged off his obvious offense with
the same indifferent callousness he always employed. "Ask yourself
why 'the' omnipotent, inapproachable, untouchable Q wants to punish
lowly, insignificant, Bonnie Holmyard. Is it because I denied you,
or because I accepted you?"
Q's eyes flared with insolence. Just as quickly it
disappeared. He reached to stroke her face and again she sensed
.???. something? .???. what?. but her instincts demanded she draw
away from his touch. Instantly, Q changed. Gone was the
'something'. Now he glared at her, but in the next moment he was
casually flicking a piece of non-existent fluff from the uniform -
admiral rank in evidence - he wore.
"I applaud you, Bonnie," came the glib retort. "You are
handling the situation most admirably. Allow me to congratulate...
no... 'commend' would be the word used by your associates, wouldn't
it? So, allow me to commend you on..."
Holmyard cut him off. "What happened to Keilah?"
"I really don't like your tone."
"Answer my question!"
"Only because it serves my purpose," Q said pointedly, his
eyes boring into hers. Then, as haughtily as ever, "She's in your
place."
Holmyard's thoughts spun. Keilah was in the future!... and
undoubtedly submitting to the same treatment at Captain Moudy's
hands that Holmyard was experiencing at Commodore George's, but...
"Does she, do they have any knowledge of your interference?"
"None whatsoever..." pause "...well ...in all honesty... maybe
just a little, but isn't it grand?"
"It's despicable! You said nothing about others being
punished."
Q snapped his fingers. "I knew I overlooked something!"
another pause in which Q purposely held Holmyard's eye, "but then,
who can blame me when I'm being distracted by you, Bonnie, my love?
But have YOU overlooked anything, or should I say 'anyone'?" She
purposely ignored the taunt. "Ah, I see you have not, and besides,
it's not precisely punishment. Keilah should feel honored..."
"You know nothing of honor!"
"...to be alive and young seventy-seven years ahead of her
time. She just might get to meet a certain retired Commander
Starfleet!" Q's unabashed laughter started, "and, being omnipotent,
I most certainly DO know about honor." His laughter halted
abruptly. His voice took a cautious tone. "And I also know this,
Bonnie, one misstep on your part and you could change the future
and violate your precious Prime Directive."
It was as if someone had thrown a glass of frigid water in her
face, so forceful was the realization of her predicament catalyzed
by Q's vengeance.
'Enjoy', Q's fading mind-voice proclaimed just as Gelf said,
"This way, Lieutenant."
Q was gone. The turbolift had stopped. The waking nightmare
continued.
*****
"You may wait outside, Commander," George said as soon as he
entered the briefing room. Gelf hesitated but a moment before
complying. George sighed, relieved he didn't have to go through the
whole I-am-the-commanding-officer routine again with his loyal
security chief. He sat opposite Holmyard. Where to begin?
"Lieutenant, am I correct in assuming you previously refused to
answer my question based on Starfleet General Order One?"
"Yes, sir."
"You are from the future... seventy-eight years to be exact."
It was not a question. It was offered as an opening to Holmyard to
open up willingly.
"Yes, sir." Obviously, she still had reservations about
opening up.
Another tack. "Do you have any knowledge of what happened to
my communications officer."
"Yes, sir." A glimmer of an opening.
George plotted the vector of questions through that opening.
"Allow me to speak candidly, Lieutenant. I am a man with problems,
and it appears only you can offer a possible explanation. We were
responding to a distress call which vanished as suddenly as it
appeared. Moments later, the collision alert sounded. We were on a
direct collision course with another Excelsior class starship,
which had appeared out of nowhere. Some kind of clash DID occur,
what? I do not know, but this ship sustained no structural damage.
Then you were discovered here while our communications officer was
discovered missing." He paused, then asked, "Are you a
communications officer?"
"Conn, sir," Holmyard averred.
George assimilated the knowledge. It came from a frame of
reference over seven decades in the future. He himself had been
there once, by accident. The memories of that time were disjointed
but what he could remember was self-censured by the Prime
Directive. In this, he empathized completely with Holmyard. "Before
you left the bridge, my science officer reported the bridge crew,
and yourself, are all that remain on board since that ersatz
collision. The rest of Excalibur's complement have vanished. If you
can offer any, and I mean ANY, explanation for these occurrences,
I'd advise you to do so quickly."
"Permission to speak candidly, sir?"
"By all means, Lieutenant."
Holmyard felt a debate commence within. How far should she go?
Did it make a difference? Her presence in this time period in
itself violated the Prime Directive. Would she be compounding the
violation by explaining even the smallest detail? But what else was
she to do? Sit in a brig somewhere knowing she was responsible? No!
She would not accept THAT accountability. It belonged, deservedly,
to Q.
"It is as you say, Commodore," she began. "I am from the
future and well aware of the restrictions of General Order One. I
am also aware you are under the same onus due to your involuntary
visit to the Enterprise of my time." She probed for his reaction.
Not surprise, more like, wariness and resolve. "I have been warned
that one misstep on my part and I could alter the future as I know
it."
"Warned? By who?"
"I cannot answer that question with those two prerequisites
hanging over my head. Therefore, I have no choice but to recognize
you as a Starfleet officer of Command Grade and ask that you accept
my resignation from Starfleet."
George thought he'd been ready to hear anything... but this?!
He was about to protest when he saw her line of logic. Impressive,
if technical, he thought. It puts the aegis of responsibility on my
shoulders. But what impact will she have on my future if I permit
her this unorthodox request?
Holmyard sensed the commodore's inner conflict. "You DID
recognize me as a Starfleet officer, first, sir. You face the same
dilemma I do. We have both revealed too much to each other already,
have we not?"
"I cannot answer that question, Lieutenant." It was the
standard response dictated by the Prime Directive, the one Holmyard
had been giving all along yet now it was George's turn to voice it.
He saw his slight smile mirrored on her face. Holmyard was facing
her dilemma most resourcefully.
"I will not deny that I'm deliberately trying to use the
paradox we share to manipulate our way out from under the Prime
Directive's restrictions," she continued, "and I'm aware that my
resignation would not truly eradicate my duty to Starfleet as I
know it, but, it's the only solution that comes to mind."
"Would you have me resign as well, Lieutenant?" George asked.
He saw her eyebrow raise in astonishment at his suggestion, an
oddly Vulcanesque mannerism. "Or, would you rather act on the fact
we share some knowledge of my future, your former present, and
continue to build on that foundation? No matter what you reveal to
me, know that the Prime Directive secures my silence. But, I need
to know why Lieutenant Commander Keilah has vanished, where you
came from, and where the rest of my crew has gone."
Holmyard felt respect for this commodore increase, along with
a now-doubly-alerted appreciation of Q's manipulative powers.
George was giving her every opportunity to willingly provide the
information he requested, no thanks to Q. But then again, she and
George did indeed share a common paradox, and that WAS thanks to
the Q, at least on her part. I'll get you for this, Q, she silently
vowed, while another part of her grasped at the surprising solution
her vow incited. "Then, sir, I ask you permit me to meld with you."
"'Meld'?!" This intruder was unlike any other and full of
surprises as well. "As in Vulcan MIND meld?!"
"Yes, sir."
"You're not Vulcan!"
"My ancestry is Human/Betazoid..."
"...like Counselor Deanna Troi of the Enterprise from your
time?" There, a no-turning-back confession that would have flatly
violated the Prime Directive if not for the fact Holmyard was from
the future. Would she really now reciprocate?
"Yes, sir," she answered with pause, "but I 'have' mastered
the intricacies of the Vulcan mind meld and believe, in this
instance, it should be used. I 'am' an adept, sir. If you do as I
instruct, the procedure will be painless and provide you with all
the information I have regarding the situation we now find
ourselves in."
There was no time for hesitation or conjecture, this the
commodore knew. Still, he hesitated. '...if she goes for your
throat, don't say I didn't warn you...'. Blasberg's echoing words
increased George's trepidation. What would the first officer say if
he knew it was not George's throat Holmyard was after, but his
mind? Plenty, if George knew Blasberg any at all, which he did, but
what did either of them truly know about the Vulcan mind meld?
Nothing. All George knew personally was that many a Vulcan of his
acquaintance expressed profound reservations to performing the meld
with any but another Vulcan. It had something to do with the
unstructured chaos of non-Vulcan thoughts and, of course, the
unquestionable invasion of privacy.
He's really balking in spite of the advantage that could be
gained, Holmyard thought. Okay, here goes, "You and your ship are
at the mercy of an omnipotent, possibly malevolent entity known in
the twenty-fourth century as the Q Continuum." A blatant Prime
Directive violation, just as his had been. Mutual trust was
growing.
For the safety of Excalibur and her crew George would risk
almost anything. "What do I have to do?"
The red alert klaxon intercepted her response. He immediately
activated the intercom. "Bridge, this is George. What's happening?"
"Another collision alert, Commodore," Blasberg responded. "Cut
the alarm, will you, Tim?" this to the chief engineer. Then, "It
looks like we're going to crash with another Excelsior class
starship, sir."
"Evasives!" George somehow knew it to be futile.
"Too late! Brace yourself!"
George and Holmyard felt something obscene wash through them,
but it was gone in an instant. The bridge reported in the next.
"We're still in one piece, sir," Blasberg informed him, "and
reports are now coming in from other parts of the ship."
"The crew has returned?" George shared gazes with Holmyard,
gauging her reaction.
"Not all sir." This from Makofsky. "Excalibur now has
one-third of her crew back."
"Set course, Number One," George ordered. "Best speed for
Starbase Eighty-eight."
"Make it so, Mister Kyhl," Blasberg relayed to the helmsman.
Instantly, klaxons sounded again. "Another collision alert,
Commodore. May I suggest you interrupt the interview and return to
the bridge?"
"On my way, Number One." George cut the connection. "Is this
more of the 'Q Continuum''s handiwork, Lieutenant?"
"Anything is possible where Q is involved, sir," Holmyard
replied.
"Let's get to the bridge and try to put a stop to this,"
George said, inferring she accompany him. Before they were out the
door the obscenity washed over them yet again.
*****
"Status?" George asked as he stepped out of the turbolift.
Blasberg swiveled the center seat in the turbolift's
direction. "We're at a dead stop again, sir," he reported,
suspiciously eyeing Holmyard. "No structural damage. No
explanation."
George saw that Holmyard had stepped just beyond the
turbolift, and stopped. "Man the communications station, Mister
Holmyard," he ordered, "and ascertain if Chief Medical Officer
Saalk is among the 'returned' crew." He saw her doubt and sensed
Blasberg's flinch in protest beside him. To them both, he said, "We
need all the trained help we can get in this situation."
Holmyard stood a moment longer, extending her Betazoid talents
to gauge the measure of the commodore's trust in her. Satisfied
that he was as good as his word, she sat in the communication
station's seat, pointedly ignored all thoughts of Blasberg, and
placed a call to sickbay. The console wasn't too far removed from
the controls she was used to. Some of the training modules at the
academy had been almost museum pieces.
To allay mounting tension on the bridge, George proceeded to
garner information from the crew. "Did any of the crew report their
experinces between disappearing and returning?"
"None to speak of," Blasberg responded, "though Lieutenant
Commander Titus did inquire why the collision alert was cancelled
so abruptly."
George couldn't help but smile. He could not deny that the
records officer's welfare had been somewhat distracting his
concentration. It was comendably canny of Blasberg to relieve
George's anxiety without stressing his new-found relationship with
Titus. "Structural damage?"
"Same as before, sir," Riley answered. "Sensors say we hit
something, yet there's not a bolt or a weld out of joint on the
entire ship."
"Explanation?"
"Same as before," Makofsky said, "and in case you're
wondering, it's not the Emfive Virus. I ran Commander Titus's
ferret program. The EV is still in remission."
George turned to Holmyard, his expression saying, 'now do you
realize what we're facing?'. At the same time he realized she
probably knew better than anyone what it was, exactly, they were
facing. "I'm open to suggestions, people."
"I suggest we reverse course," Riley said immediately, "if for
no other reason than we haven't."
"I concur," Makofsky said, "but not for the same reason. There
is a ninety-nine percent probability we will experience another
such 'collision'. If so, it will substantiate a theory that's been
byting at my memory."
"A theory, Mister Makofsky?" George questioned. "Would you
care to elaborate?"
"It's referred to as the Mobius Loop."
"That's never been proven," Riley cut in.
"Maybe we're experiencing the proof."
"I've never heard of this Mobius Loop," Blasberg said, "so I'm
in the dark, here."
George reigned in a retort prompted by Blasberg's last
comment. Usually, he and the first officer kept a running ribbing
going between them, however, now was not the time for superfluous
levity. "I saw a drawing by M. C. Escher once - giant ants crawling
over a loop twisted in on itself. Is that what we're talking about
here?"
"Minus the ants, yes sir," Makofsky answered. "Even the
experts are in the dark where the Mobius Loop theory is concerned.
It's based on a chronal doppler effect or the telescoping of time.
Remember that spatial anomaly we detected just before the distress
call disappeared?" George nodded. "If that anomaly was some sort of
timewarp, and if we were caught in its tide..."
George couldn't help but glance at Holmyard at the word
'timewarp' but at the same time the chief engineer was reminding
them,
"We never came close to its actual event horizon."
"According to the sensors, that's true," Makofsky rebutted,
"but, if we WERE caught in some sort of timewarp it would explain
the hapless collisions we've been experiencing."
This is beginning to make sense, George thought. "So you're
saying that, based on this Mobius Loop theory, the first collision
we experienced was ourselves from the future, which pushed the crew
ahead in time," and deposited Holmyard in our midst he appended in
thought. "Then, the next two collisions were also us, but from the
past, thus the partial return of the crew."
Blasberg's mind was churning at warp speed, grappling with the
concept and the solution. "That means we have to either pursue us
to the next contact or wait for us to catch up with us in the
present. Ouch! My brain hurts when I say stuff like this."
"If all that happens like Daniel says," Riley took up the
reasoning, "the rest of the crew should 'return' and hopefully
provide us with an escape from this Mobius Loop."
"Exactly," Makofsky exclaimed. "but, it IS just a theory and
as with all theories there are variables."
"Of course there are," Blasberg said. "Nothing ever happens to
us simply or without complications." His pointed glance at Holmyard
did not go unnoticed by either the mystifying exile herself or the
commodore. Blasberg rarely missed a chance to score a point in an
argument.
"What variables are we talking about?" George asked.
"Decisions," Makofsky replied, "each one we make and the time
span between each decision."
George's thoughts spun at the implications. "The first
collision happened immediately following the disappearance of the
distress call and directly prior to the disappearance of the crew,
with the exception of the bridge personnel."
"Except Keilah," Blasberg put in.
George let that fact slide without comment. "The next
collision happened... when? Do we have a running chronology of the
collisions?"
Makofsky consulted a PADD. "Affirmative, sir. The time span
between the first and second collisions was exactly thirty-three
minutes, thirty-three point three three seconds."
"But the next happened almost immediately," Riley added, "when
we changed course."
"And we've been at a dead stop since," George said. "Time
span?"
"Fifteen minutes, fifty-five seconds," Makofsky supplied.
"So we can wait another seventeen plus minutes and see if
another 'us' from the past happen along," George said, "or we can
reverse course now."
"If we wait too long the Mobius Loop may very well protract,"
Makofsky cautioned. "If we act now we could curtail its effects."
"I recommend we reverse course now," Blasberg said.
George sighed. Command decisions were a constant source of
such sighs. "I never have been one for waiting around to see what
happens. Mister Kyhl, reverse course, maximum speed."
Kyhl complied with alacrity. As anticipated, the collision
alert sounded, followed immediately by that wash of obscenity they
were almost growing accustomed to.
"Extraordinary," Doctor Saalk said as he exited the turbolift.
"May I inquire what is causing these unsettling phenomenae?"
"Hopefully, our salvation, Doctor," George replied. He saw one
of Saalk's eyebrows lower in mild puzzlement. "Have our science
officer here explain Mobius Loops to you, Doctor."
"No need," Saalk deferred. "I am well versed on the topic."
"Where were you a few minutes ago when we needed an expert?"
Blasberg asked. "Never mind, don't answer that. I might run into
the answer yesterday and really screw up my plans for tomorrow."
"Are we free of the Mobius?" Riley asked.
Makofsky stabbed at relays and observed readouts. "Unknown,
but ship's inner scanners now report full crew complement
restored."
"Let's push this theory to its limits," George said. "Mister
Thornburg, plot a course for Starbase Eighty-eight. Mister Kyhl,
lay it in, best speed."
A collective breath was held as the navigator and helmsman
made it so. Seconds passed with no collision alert sounding. The
seconds stretched to one full minute and the collective breath was
released in collective, jubilant cheers. They were free...
...or not so free. The smile on George's face was short-lived
when he met Holmyard's solemn gaze. She shook her head. They may
have escaped the Mobius Loop but she was obviously of the belief
they were still gripped in Q's clutches.
"Doctor Saalk, may I have a word with you in private?" George
asked, and since Blasberg was being ubiqitous as ever, "You too,
Number One?" Might as well toss the bull into the arena. When both
officers stood beside the center seat he continued. "Doctor, what
can you tell us about the mind meld?"
Saalk's eyebrows arched for the ceiling. "Sir?"
"Is there danger involved?"
Blasberg straightened to full height and crossed his arms. The
commodore's interrogative tack was proceeding in a most irksome
direction. Did he lie awake at night thinking up ways to make his
executive officer's job more difficult? "What's this all about,
sir?"
George held up a hand, tacitly requesting restraint. He
returned his full attention to the Vulcan chief medical officer, an
expectant question evident in his eyes.
At once, the Vulcan was all Vulcan. "The meld is not openly
discussed, Commodore, as you are well aware, thus there must be a
purpose to your inquiry. To specify, do you refer to the dangers of
the meld applied to a non-Vulcan?" George nodded. "Then the danger
is prevalent in such a case. The meld is much more than just an
inherent Vulcan trait. It is also an art, and like any aptitude
demands practice for perfection especially when a non-Vulcan is
involved."
George felt his viscera quiver at the foreboding taint in
Saalk's words. Exerting control to remain outwardly calm he asked,
"What is the exact nature of the danger?"
Saalk paused, formulating an informative answer that would not
compromise Vulcan proscriptions and sacrosanctities concerning the
meld. "The meld is the literal merging of one mind with another and
all the connotations that synergy infers. If an adept performs the
act, and if the recipient is openly receptive, the danger is
minimized. Without those factors, the meld becomes an invasion
wherein the stronger Vulcan mind seizes control. Damage to the
weaker mind is often the result hence the danger becomes
self-evident. Vulcans develop mental shields to protect the
integrity and autonomy of the katra. Non-Vulcans are deficient in
this advantage."
"Once a meld is in progress, does the recipient show any
detectable signs of... damaging effects?" George winced mentally at
the imagery.
"Yes, sir. Properly performed the meld is a..." he searched
for a word to convey the Vulcan concept, "...spiritually uplifting
experience. It can be equally as counter-productive should either
communicant resist. Both communicants outwardly display the peace
or the conflict of the union. I stress, Commodore, their two minds
are one."
Blasberg ground his teeth in apprehension, then asked, "Can an
observer stop the meld if circumstances demand it?"
"To a certain extent," Sallk replied. "Physical contact with
the mind in jeopardy is required. One final caution, separation
does not completely sever the bond. The communicants forever hold
a part of each other in their minds."
Well, I DID ask, George ruefully mused, and reached a fully
informed decision. "Then, if I submit to such a meld you could
monitor and..."
"Wait a minute," Blasberg halted the question. "What do you
mean, 'if you submit'? With who? Why?"
George cleared his throat, met his first officer's eyes and
said, "With Holmyard. Because I have a need to know."
"Holmyard!?" Blasberg's gaze flew to the woman he considered
'the intruder'. She met the visual assault unflinchingly. "She's
NOT Vulcan!"
"True, though she is an adept."
"She told you this?" Saalk's curiosity was greatly piqued at
the prospect.
"Yes, and I believe her."
Steel laced Blasberg's words. "I will not permit you to do
this, Commodore, with all due respect."
"With Saalk close at hand the safety factor is acceptable,
Number One."
"But the risk factor is not."
"Commodore, I too must object," Saalk said. "I find your logic
in error. Holmyard is not Vulcan, therefore it is impossible for
her to be adept at the meld. You will be placing your mind, your
very life in an extremely dangerous position by submitting to
whatever she is able to attempt."
George knew he needed Saalk's willing cooperation or he could
not allow Holmyard this unorthodox method of explaining, and
needless to say, neither would his over-protective first officer.
"Meld with Holmyard yourself, Doctor. If you feel her incompetent
afterwards I will abide by your trained opinion."
Saalk favored Holmyard with a calculating gaze. Then, "We will
be in sickbay, Commodore. If the outcome is favorable, I will
notify you." Wordlessly, he headed for the turbolift.
A look from George dismissed Holmyard to accompany the Vulcan
to sickbay. George already knew the outcome WOULD be amenable. Like
phasers against shields, the commodore felt more than saw
Blasberg's scrutiny. Obviously, persuading him would take more than
a mere Vulcan mind meld. "Is there a problem, Dan?"
"I don't want to have to log an official protest, Commodore,"
Blasberg said quietly but heatedly. "But I 'will' do so if you go
through with this."
"You always do the proper thing, Dan," George said. "That's
why I have complete faith in you."
Blasberg was visibly stung by the comment. Going against the
commodore's will was not an easy thing for him to do. "Permission
to leave the bridge, sir?"
George did not question the request. "Ten minutes, Number One.
If I'm not here when you return, I'll be in sickbay. You may join
me there, if you wish." He reached up and grasped Blasberg's
shoulder. "I may need you." He watched Blasberg enter the
turbolift, knowing he was doing his first officer a great
injustice.
*****
TO BE CONTINUED...
TSAO!
--
"I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to
the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime."
Leonard Cohen
ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard)
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From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard)
Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - Part VI
Message-ID:
Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin)
Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:39:10 GMT
Lines: 496
Continuing is...
Copywrited 1992 by George & Holmyard
WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS
PART VI
RECAPPING:
"You always do the proper thing, Dan," George said. "That's
why I have complete faith in you."
Blasberg was visibly stung by the comment. Going against the
commodore's will was not an easy thing for him to do. "Permission
to leave the bridge, sir?"
George did not question the request. "Ten minutes, Number One.
If I'm not here when you return, I'll be in sickbay. You may join
me there, if you wish." He reached up and grasped Blasberg's
shoulder. "I may need you." He watched Blasberg enter the
turbolift, knowing he was doing his first officer a great
injustice.
*****
Blasberg fumed silently through the turbolift ride. He fumed
all the more as he stormed purposefully down one corridor after
another as he recalled the commodore's total disregard of his first
officer's protests. He hated the thought of the underhandedness of
what he was planning, but George seemed unyielding in his intent to
place himself at risk. Incapable of swaying the commodore,
Blasberg's helplessness had stoked his fuming to seething by the
time he charged into the records department. "Commander Titus," he
all but barked, "summon a replacement then come with me!"
Lieutenant Commander Deborah Titus nearly fell out of her
chair in surprise. "Commander?"
"There's no time for questions, Commander. The commodore is in
danger. Summon your replacement. We have to work fast to save him."
Titus complied immediately. Thoughts of George at risk spurred
her alacrity.
Blasberg heard her taut summons and tried to calm his own
racing heart. It was a waste of energy.
"I'm ready," Titus said as she joined him at the door."
"I'll explain as we walk," Blasberg began. "We have to be in
sickbay before the commodore arrives." He had no doubt that George
WOULD be arriving shortly at sickbay to commence his ill advised
and poorly considered (i.e. foolish) scheme.
*****
Logic had demanded Saalk question Holmyard's alleged adeptness
at the meld, just as the next logical step had been to submit to
the procedure himself. Seated on the couch in his sickbay office,
one simple touch from Holmyard had alleviated all of Saalk's
reservations. How the Human had acquired the skill was beyond the
Vulcan's understanding, their meld had not been that insightful or
incisory, but that Holmyard had entered and withdrawn from Saalk's
mind, leaving no presence behind and removing nothing, was
irrefutable.
"There will be no danger," Holmyard reaffirmed. "I AM an
adept."
"I no longer question your ability," Saalk averred.
"I'm glad to hear you say so, Doctor" George said as he
entered the doctor's office. He looked around, somewhat
disappointed that Blasberg was not present. Whenever George was in
jeopardy, Blasberg's bullheadness was often a saving virtue.
Almost as if conjured, Blasberg burst into sickbay, Titus in
tow. "Did we miss the cartoon? I hate arriving at a film after the
cartoon is over."
As soon as the first officer entered sickbay, Holmyard felt
the intensity of his true emotions. Despite his jocularity, he was
still angry, resentful of her presence and wounded at the
commodore's secrecy, but now all were painstakingly kept in check
by an underlying deceit. That was all the analysis she had time
for. A taunting laugh echoed through her mind. Q! she spoke
mentally to the entity responsible for all she was facing. So
you're watching, are you? No response. And that's when Holmyard
noticed the petite, blond, blue-eyed officer who had entered with
Blasberg. The fierce sense of protectiveness the woman projected
was like a slap in the face to Holmyard. Compounding the assault
was the flare of George's emotions, a similar protectiveness
together with an inflamed yet repressed yearning. They're in love,
Holmyard's Betazoid talent advised.
Oh no, George thought. What has Blasberg done now? "Lieutenant
Holmyard, allow me to introduce Lieutenant Commander Deborah Titus,
ship's records officer."
"Commander," Holmyard said respectifully.
"Lieutenant," Titus responded neutrally. "Commodore, may I
speak with you a moment in private?" It sounded like a request but
felt, to Holmyard, like a demand.
George's glance nailed all present, but Titus, with a tacit
command. Immediately Saalk, Blasberg and Holmyard withdrew into
sickbay's diagnostic ward.
*****
"If you will excuse me a moment, Commander?" Saalk immediately
asked of Blasberg, "There is something I must corroborate."
"Something to do with the commodore melding with," he shot
Holmyard a piercing glance, "the lieutenant?"
"No, sir, I have no consternations in that regard."
Blasberg was not convinced, this Holmyard could sense, still
he nodded his permission and the doctor hurried away. The first
officer then pointedly ignored her.
She just as pointedly studied him. How was it she had not
recognized him before for who he was, or rather, who he would be?
The resemblance to the Blasberg of her time was now undeniable.
Granted he was much younger, but the cut of his jaw was the same,
as were his eyes. How could she have spent so much time in his
presence aboard the merged starships without noticing? Of course,
all throughout the Q-warp Blasberg had NOT been the most dominate
male on her mind, and if memory served, he'd been referred to
constantly as Number One. It had taken mention of his name for her
to see the similarities and, with mounting horror, come to realize
he was/is/will be Admiral Daniel C. Blasberg, the recently retired
Commander Starfleet. That is, if she hadn't already changed the
course of that future by being here with him now. And right now he
was glaring at her.
"Yes, Lieutenant?" he said from between clenched teeth.
"You don't trust me, do you Commander?"
"You have done nothing to earn my trust, Lieutenant." There
was no ignoring the sarcasm in his use of her rank.
"That's a valid assertion, but why are you not willing to
accept your commanding officer's trust in me?"
She felt his anger surge at the mention of Commodore George,
along with yet another fervent sense of protectiveness. "You are an
intruder on this ship, Lieutenant. You do NOT belong here. How you
convinced the commodore to trust you, I don't know, nor do I
condone what you are about to do to him, but as far as my trusting
you, forget it!"
*****
Commodore George did not need Holmyard's Betazoid skills to
sense Titus's alarm. "What did Dan tell you, Debbie?"
"Everything he knew, which wasn't much. Who is she? Where did
she come from? Is it true you intend to allow her to attempt to
meld with you?"
Blasberg often charged across one line too many, like now. "I
can't tell you that."
"Why not? Why are you so determined to go through with this?
Dan told me even Doctor Saalk advises against it."
"Saalk is now convinced Holmyard is adept." George let Titus
read the truth in his eyes. He took her hand, soft and warm as
ever. "Debbie, as much as I do NOT appreciate Number One going to
you with this, I do appreciate your concern..."
"I very much doubt that." Tears were beginning to well in her
eyes.
"There will be no danger."
Titus withdrew her hand. "What of the danger to us?"
Now George was puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"The mind meld is a joining, is it not? You and she will be
forever united in a way I can never share with you."
The love George felt for Titus suddenly saturated him. He
pulled her into his arms. "A unity in thought only, my love," he
whispered into her hair, "and only specific thoughts at that. You
and I will be sharing a far stronger bond than mere thought before
too long. You are the only one I will aspire to meld with to that
extent. Holmyard means nothing more to me than the knowledge of who
she is, where she came from and a possible threat I can't reveal to
you. I do this for the safety of my ship and crew. You must look at
it in that light and have faith in my love for you."
Titus said nothing for one long, agonizing minute. Her embrace
only tightened. Then, "You ask a lot of me, Commodore."
George broke the embrace to stare into her eyes and smile.
"But I ask it only of YOU, Commander." A kiss sealed his sincerity
and vow.
The others were then summoned to return. George looked at
Titus, Blasberg, Saalk and Holmyard each in turn. "Time is of the
essence. Shall we begin?"
"Perhaps we should sit, sir," Holmyard suggested and she and
the commodore did so, utilizing the couch that ran along one wall
of the doctor's office. Saalk immediately retrieved a tricorder
from his desk and moved to stand close. Titus sank into another
chair, feeling very conspicuous. Blasberg also hovered,
protectively, nearby.
Holmyard faced George directly. "I will not be invading your
thoughts, Commodore. I shall simply open my mind to your presence
and lead you to the memories which apply. If you find you have
questions, simply think them and I shall answer in my thoughts in
return." With no further preamble, Holmyard reached for the
commodore's face, her fingers seeking the touch-points that would
establish the meld. Their eyes fell shut.
At first George felt nothing. Then a caress of emotions
stroked his consciousness, as soft as the petals of a rose.
A rose?
YES. IT IS MY IMAGE OF MY THOUGHTS, Holmyard's voice clearly
spoke inside his mind. OUR MINDS ARE GROWING CLOSER. OUR THOUGHTS
ARE BECOMING ONE. OUR MEMORIES ARE MERGING.
The 'rose' unfolded, deep red petals, so soft, so delicate,
each embracing the other, then unfurling, blossoming, petal upon
secret petal, the fragrance redolent, evocative, revealing,
exposing images, impressions, memories, emotions.
THIS IS Q, again the touch soft, fragile. Then came the
perfect image of a man, NOT A MAN, but it was a man: tall,
dark-haired, dark-eyed, handsome.
Handsome?
OUR MINDS ARE ONE.
You find him handsome?
No answer save a surge of emotion that flooded his awareness
and answered his query beyond ways mere words could never convey.
You love him?
Hesitation did not exist. FOREVER.
But I thought...?
ONE CANNOT CONTROL THE POWER OF LOVE, COMMODORE, NOR THE POWER
OF Q. OBSERVE.
Crashing waves, warm summer wind, Holmyard and Q together, the
force of love felt for each other.
What happened?
OBSERVE.
A Galaxy class starship... Enterprise... Picard. George felt
recognition surge at the images. There was no way he could conceal
the knowledge, melded as they were.
YOUR SECRET IS SAFE WITH ME.
As is yours with me.
OBSERVE.
And George did observe and he learned of the power of Q, from
Farpoint to... Blasberg?! Commander Starfleet!?!
YES, SIR. YET ANOTHER PARADOX I, WE, MUST FACE.
...to Q-warp, and through all the mind-boggling revelations,
George shared Holmyard's horror at loving such an entity, her shame
at the catastrophe such a love had instigated.
You could not have know. You're not to blame.
D O N ' T B E S O S U R E. A new voice reverberated
through the joining.
Q!
Y E S, M Y L O V E, I A M H E R E.
Why do you torture her? An instant wave of repugnant
offensiveness washed over George.
B E G O N E!
NO! RELEASE HIM!
W H Y D O Y O U S H A R E Y O U R L O V E W I T H
H I M ?
I DID NOT SHARE MY LOVE.
Y O U S H A R E D T H E I N T I M A T E
K N O W L E D G E O F O U R L O V E!
YOU LEFT ME NO CHOICE!
I T I S Y O U W H O L E A V E M E N O
C H O I C E.
LEAVE THE COMMODORE OUT OF YOUR PLANS FOR PUNISHING ME, Q!
W I L L Y O U T E R M I N A T E T H I S
I N S U L T I N G M E L D W I T H S U C H A N
U N W O R T H Y M I N D?
IF YOU LEAVE THE COMMODORE UNHARMED, YOU CAN TAKE ME FROM THIS
TIME AND PLACE AND DO WITH ME WHAT YOU WILL.
No, Holmyard! It's too danger...
S O B E I T, B O N N I E, M Y L O V E.
L I G H T ! Brighter than white. It flared abruptly in the
shroud of darkness that had imprisoned George. Deja vu overwhelmed
him as he fully recalled one other time he had been so dazzled.
"Commodore!" It was Saalk's voice.
"Walt!" Titus's.
"Q!" George exclaimed as the purple afterimages that all but
blinded him began to sizzle to yellow. His returning sight seized
those around him. "Where's Holmyard?"
*****
TO BE CONTINUED...
TSAO!
--
"I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to
the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime."
Leonard Cohen
ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard)
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From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard)
Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - Part VII
Message-ID:
Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin)
Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:41:22 GMT
Lines: 627
Continuing is...
Copywrited 1992 by George & Holmyard
WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS
PART VII
RECAPPING:
L I G H T ! Brighter than white. It flared abruptly in the
shroud of darkness that had imprisoned George. Deja vu overwhelmed
him as he fully recalled one other time he had been so dazzled.
"Commodore!" It was Saalk's voice.
"Walt!" Titus's.
"Q!" George exclaimed as the purple afterimages that all but
blinded him began to sizzle to yellow. His returning sight seized
those around him. "Where's Holmyard?"
*****
In the moonlight the water looked perfectly black, the foam
perfectly white. Holmyard sat on the rocky ledge she had sat upon
countless times before awash with emotions, her own for a change.
An aching apprehension, not her own, suddenly crashed over her as
ceaselessly as the waves that pounded the rocks beyond the sandy
shore.
It's still as breath-taking as ever.
Her head twirled left. There he sat; as assured, as poised, as
beguiling as ever.
"It troubles me that you've never returned," Q said aloud. The
compassion in his voice contained no falsehood she could detect,
but again she sensed that elusive 'something'. This time, however,
she perceived it for what it was. The tidal wave of her disbelief
surged to meet the swell of his apprehension.
"This is your paradise," Q said, his voice now a sincere and
solemn plea, "our paradise."
A moment before they had been on a starship in deep space. Now
they were on Terra, at her hideaway just south San Francisco. Just
as abruptly they were on the beach, the water streaking over the
smooth, hard-packed sand, lapping at their bare feet, Q's arm
around Holmyard's waist, pulling her close. The seduction of his
touch brought an onslaught of memories, followed by the unbridled
gush of his love, his unquestionable devotion, wrapping around her
more surely than his arms. His eyes were more than just piercing,
and his lips - his full and enticing lips - moved closed and closer
to her own.
'Fight him off' did not even enter her mind. Contact, his lips
to hers, the perfect consummation of desire. Passion flared,
blazed, erupted, displacing all thoughts, all resolve. There was
only him, her, together, forever.
'Yes,' the symphony of his telepathy sighed through her being.
'Together, forever, like you promised.'
How long their kiss lasted, Holmyard could not fathom - it
could have been seconds, it seemed like a blissful eternity - then
she was staring into the stars of his eyes.
"I love you, Bonnie," Q breathed into her face. "Don't reject
me again."
It was the right thing to say. It was the wrong thing to say.
Once again she felt the rush of power. How could such a being as
he... no... THEY... feel devotion for her? But at the same time
came the certainty of the corruption of his... THEIR love. Holmyard
knew the impossibility of loving only Q without also accepting all
the Q Continuum.
"I will love YOU forever, Q, but I can't love the Q Continuum
all at once. We can never be..."
"Please," he pleaded, his face now a mask of torture. "You
once shared with me your love, unconditionally, and, you gave me
that love for eternity. It has only deepened since that moment."
The stark, unfeigned honesty of his/their NO! 'his' words and
emotions, swept over her. Grasp tightly to your sanity Holmyard,
she admonished herself. "You said you'd completely wiped all
thoughts of me from your collective memory," she said callously.
"I lied."
Definitely not the comeback she'd expected. Not that she
wanted to ignite his wrath again, once was enough, but she had to
find some way out of this situation or she never could. "What of
your Q-warp, Q? What of Keilah, trapped in the future?"
With a blinding flash of light, that peculiarity that was Q's
alone, Holmyard found herself on the merged bridges of Excel and
Excalibur. She watched as the moments before their attempt to
escape the Q-warp replayed before her...
*****
USS EXCEL NCC 1722 - STARDATE 3/6703.12
Riley, Excalibur's chief engineer, had begun the countdown to
the moment that would test whether or not their ingenuity would
save or destroy them. During that countdown, Captain Gary R. Moudy,
Excel's commanding officer, could not recall drawing one breath, or
releasing the last one he had inhaled. At the instant Riley
reached, 'Zero', Moudy had looked up, into his own bridge, and met
the gaze of Commodore Walter S. George sitting in Excel's center
seat. There he saw complete accord. "Engage," they had commanded as
one.
Pressing the appropriate controls, closing the corresponding
relays and tapping the feral energies had occurred without sound
all in an instant of time. Then the vibrations had begun and they
seemed to last an eternity. The very marrow of their bones had felt
and endured the shaking, and not without pain. It had begun to grow
warm, then hot, then scorching. What was the old phrase? 'The ship
can't take much more or she'll blow up!' Well, the crew had been in
no better shape in that moment.
Surely, the sense of reality had dimmed within everyone's
awareness. Moudy wasn't sure if consciousness had left any of them
or not. Then had come the brilliant, white flash of light, and the
heat. The shaking and disorientation had all ended with an abrupt
rudeness that had stunned the senses.
As Moudy sat absolutely still, attempting to sort out the
scrambled input his senses were relaying to his brain, he reflected
that, that very flash of light had occurred twice since the whole
macabre escapade had begun. Reports of the encounter at Farpoint
between Enterprise and Q came to mind as he tried to analyze the
meaning of that blinding explosion of light. It had been reported
by Captain Picard that Q's displays of power were accompanied by
such a flash. And suddenly it all fit into place in his mind with
a nearly audible 'click'. Holmyard WAS right! Q WAS to blame for
the predicament they had all found themselves in! That second
flash, then... did it herald Q's interference to abort their
successful escape from the timewarp?
As if that apocalypse had dispelled the disorientation from
his mind, Moudy grasped in one gestalt where he was - back on his
own bridge on his own starship. He pushed himself out of his very
own center seat and pivoted around to take a mental roll call of
his crew. There was Commander Foye to the right, as always, rubbing
his temples, eyes tightly closed.
Counselor Kukola to the left, staring straight ahead but
focused on no particular sight.
COUNSELOR! LINDA, CAN YOU HEAR ME?
Bonnie?!
I'M TRAPPED IN THE PAST, LINDA. Q HAS CONTROL OF MY DESTIN...
Bonnie?
Lieutenant Kemp was draped across his security board, stirring
feebly as if just returning to the world of the conscious. The ops
station was vacant, for Commander Satok lay against the forward
viewscreen, all limbs akimbo, yet with Vulcan serenity still ruling
his comatose (dead?) features. And at the conn was slumped the form
of Lieutenant... not Holmyard!
The officer's scalp was hairless identifying her as Deltan, in
all likelihood. Her uniform an anachronism from a time before: the
blood-red tunic, the shoulder rank identifying her as Lieutenant
Commander, her one leg dressed in black with the red stripe running
down the side. No where else were any of Excalibur's crew, or their
ship for that matter, to be seen, except for her.
"Who is that?" Foye asked bleakly and rose unsteadily to join
Moudy in the survey. "Isn't that one of Commodore George's crew?
"Yes, Number One," Moudy affirmed, "Lieutenant Commander
Keilah, communications officer, if memory serves, and now refugee
from the past."
Foye turned to perform the same roster check Moudy had moments
before. He moved to inspect Kukola a bit closer, to aid her
recovery in any way he could. "I don't see Lieutenant Holmyard
anywhere."
Moudy was up by the viewscreen, checking Satok for outward
signs of injury, relieved to find the Vulcan still alive. "Neither
do I, though after that turbulent departure from the warp there's
no telling if she's still on board or... elsewhere."
"Shouldn't that be, 'elsewhen'?" Foye asked as he gingerly
placed two fingers on the side of the Deltan's neck. "For that
matter, when are we?" After feeling the subtle push of blood
circulating through the vein, "There's a pulse. She's alive."
"Let's see if we can stabilize the injured," Moudy said, "then
ask questions. Bridge to sickbay."
Silence, ominous, meaningful, sobering... "Sickbay, Sonuk
here."
Moudy heaved a much welcome, long overdue sigh of relief.
"It's good to hear you're still with us, Doctor."
"I am in sickbay, Captain. I am not with you on the bridge."
"I meant... never mind." Moudy shared a puzzled look with his
Number One. "Are you busy down there, Doctor Sonuk?"
"The duty day proceeds at a routine level of activity."
"What about casualties? Or fatalities?"
"Captain, are you well? There have been no injuries reported
today. Indeed, there have been none since Xixor."
Moudy's lips tightened as he mused over Sonuk's apparent
ignorance of events in the timewarp. "As a matter of fact, Doctor,
your services are needed here on the bridge."
"I will be there momentarily, Captain. Sonuk out."
"What do you make of that, Number One?" Moudy asked, not sure
if he had an answer. "Were we or were we not trapped in a timewarp
of Q's making?"
"Maybe WE were, Captain," Foye answered, working out the
details as he spoke. "From what I've heard of Q, they are capable
of twisting events to suit their whims. Perhaps Q was only
interested in tormenting the bridge crew. Don't forget Commander
Keilah, here. She is evidence that what we experienced was all too
real."
"It WAS real." Kukola announced, brushing delicate fingers
across her forehead. "I sense your concern, Captain. I am feeling
fit. The reason for my detachment is I have been in contact with
Bonnie."
"Lieutenant Holmyard? Where is she?" Moudy released an inner
tension at the knowledge that the counselor was unhurt. He couldn't
bear to ever see this woman, special to his heart, injured. He
hoped, though, that Kukola would interpret his concern for her as
concern for the missing conn officer.
What Kukola sensed and interpreted she kept to herself, but,
to answer the captain's question about Holmyard, the counselor
crossed up to the bridge information stations. There she worked at
the panel to call up an entry from Starfleet archives. "This is
When Lieutenant Holmyard was," she announced as Moudy and Foye
joined her at the station.
They could only stare in growing amazement at the readout. It
challenged credulity to believe, yet made the agency of their
escape from Q and their warp all too obvious.
MEMORY PRIME DATANET 3/6703.12
STARFLEET OFFICER'S BIOFILE PAGE 1 OF 2
NAME: HOLMYARD, BONNIE
SERVICE NUMBER: AZ523-2871
BIOGRAPHICAL DATA
PLANET OF ORIGIN: TERRA ( SOL III )
PLACE OF BIRTH: SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, USA, NA
DATE OF BIRTH: 2/6001.20
FAMILY- FATHER: UNIDENTIFIED
MOTHER: CYNTHIA
SIBLINGS: NONE
SPOUSE: NONE
CHILDREN: NONE
EDUCATION
PRIMARY/SECONDARY SCHOOLS:
2/6509 PRIMARY: PVT TUTOR, SAN FRANCISCO, CA, USA, NA
2/7309 SECONDARY: PVT TUTOR, SAN FRANCISCO, CA, USA, NA
COLLEGES/UNIVERSITIES:
2/7909 VULCAN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES, SHIKAHR, VULCAN
PSI RATING: 98.99
[* FIRST HUMAN TO ACCOMPLISH VULCAN MIND MELD *]
2/8109 STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, CA, USA, NA
CLASS #126
AREAS OF CONCENTRATION:
COMMUNICATIONS TECHNOLOGY/COMMAND TACTICS
KOBAYASHI MARU RATING: 97.9
MERITS: 130; DEMERITS 1
LANGUAGES: ENGLISH, SPANISH, RUSSIAN, FRENCH, ARABIAN,
CHINESE, JAPANESE, GALACTA, VULCAN,
TLHINGANAAS, ANDORIAN, MEDUSAN, RIHAN, DELTAN,
TELLARITE
SERVICE DATA
ASSIGNMENTS
STARDATE RANK VESSEL POSITION
------------------------------------------------------------
2/8109 MIDSHIPMAN STARFLEET ACADEMY COMM CADET
2/8506 ENSIGN USS SKYLARK NCC 2530 COM 1ST CL
2/8704 LIEUTENANT USS ALASKA NCC 3400 COMM OFFCR
2/8910 LT COMMANDER USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 COMM OFFCR
2/9410 COMMANDER USS ENTERPRISE NCC 1701B EXEC OFFCR
3/0001 CAPTAIN USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 CMDG OFFCR
3/0706 REMAINING FILE ENTRIES RESTRICTED BY STARFLEET
INTELLIGENCE FOR THE EYES OF COMMANDER STARFLEET
AND STARFLEET INTELLIGENCE OPERATIVES ONLY.
DISCLOSURE TO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL WILL BE
CONSIDERED A VIOLATION OF STARFLEET/UFP ANTI-
ESPIONAGE LAWS AND REGULATIONS.
MEMORY PRIME DATANET 3/6703.12
STARFLEET OFFICER'S BIOFILE PAGE 2 OF 2
AWARDS AND COMMENDATIONS
FEDERATION SERVICE MEDAL
STARFLEET MEDAL OF VALOR
VULCAN ORDER OF HONOR
VULCAN ORDER OF SUREK
VULCAN ORDER OF DISTINCTION
ANASTAS MEDAL OF ACHIEVEMENT
CITATION OF CONSPICUOUS GALLANTRY
SHUVALIS DIAMOND OF RECOGNITION
ANDORIAN BATTLE STAR
STARFLEET SERVICE NOVA
CONDEMNATIONS
NONE
GENERAL
SECURITY CLEARANCE: ALPHA ALPHA ONE
END OF DATA
END OF FILE
"She disobeyed a direct order!" Moudy fumed. "She made some
sort of deal with Q..."
"...and saved our necks," Foye clarified. "And from the looks
of things didn't do too bad for herself there in the past."
"I can't believe this either," Moudy said. "Someone doctored
Starfleet records to hide Holmyard's origins."
"I can understand that," Foye said. "They had to preserve the
Prime Directive and keep anyone from finding out when Holmyard came
from."
"That was easy enough to accomplish," Moudy said. "Look at the
date when her file is restricted. Admiral George was Commander
Starfleet right about then."
"No deceased date recorded for her," Kukola pointed out,
"and... no retirement date either."
"Then, Holmyard could very well still be alive in this time,"
Moudy realized. "If I ever meet up with her again, she'll have a
lot of explaining to do."
"Captain, if you ever meet her again," Foye said with a slight
grin, "she may very well be an Admiral, maybe even Commander
Starfleet herself. Speaking of explanations, you told the Commodore
you had met him before. I'd like to know when."
"I was the quality assurance supervisor during the
construction and testing of the warp drive for Enterprise 1701D,"
Moudy revealed. "Retired Admiral George was called out of
retirement to chair the Galaxy class design committee. When he came
to inspect the construction once, I was privileged to guide the
tour. If you have further questions they'll have to wait. We need
to recoup, regroup and recover. We still have to reach Wolf Three
Five Nine to rendezvous with Admiral Hansen."
Sonuk, Excel's Vulcan chief medical officer, emerged from the
upper turbo with driven purpose, but not haste. "I have arrived,
Captain. What has happened here to require my presence?"
Moudy pointed to the three stricken bridge officers. "They've
had a rough day, Doctor." He turned to scan the incredible file on
one very irascible Starfleet officer. "And I could use a couple of
aspirin myself right about now."
"You'll need more than aspirin when we reach Wolf Three Five
Nine, Captain," Foye said. "At least after tangling with what Q
threw at us we're more than primed to confront the Borg."
*****
TO BE CONTINUED...
TSAO!
--
"I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to
the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime."
Leonard Cohen
ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!convex!convex!arco!news.utdallas.edu!corpgate!bcarh8ac.bnr.ca!bcarh189.bnr.ca!nott!cunews!freenet.carleton.ca!FreeNet.Carleton.CA!ar153
From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard)
Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - Part VIII (End)
Message-ID:
Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin)
Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:42:51 GMT
Lines: 353
Concluding is...
Copywrited 1992 by George & Holmyard
WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS
PART VIII
RECAPPING:
"She disobeyed a direct order!" Moudy fumed. "She made some
sort of deal with Q..."
"...and saved our necks," Foye clarified. "And from the looks
of things didn't do too bad for herself there in the past."
*****
COUNSELOR! Holmyard projected. LINDA, CAN YOU HEAR ME? She saw
Kukola's expression go blank.
Bonnie?!
I'M TRAPPED IN THE PAST, LINDA. Q HAS CONTROL OF MY DESTIN...
"You deceive me!" Q bellowed. "I offer you this chance to see
your comrades one last time as you wanted. I want only your love
and you deceive me!"
Events on Excel's bridge whizzed kaleidoscopically past.
"...isn't that one of commodore george's crew... it was real... she
disobeyed a
direct order... didn't do too bad for herself there in the past...
at least after
tangling with what q threw at us we're more than primed to confront
the borg..."
Reality and Excel's bridge then went spinning out of control.
Holmyard found herself pitched into a dizzying, disorienting race
with her thoughts, and Q's.
I'M...
I...
TRAPPED...
want...
IN...
only...
THE...
your...
PAST...
love...
I'M...
I...
TRAPPED...
want...
"Lieutenant Holmyard!"
I'M TRAPPED IN THE PAST.
"Lieutenant..."
I want only your love.
"...Holmyard!"
"Q?"
"Holmyard!"
She opened her eyes. Commodore George stood before her,
Commanders Blasberg and Titus, Doctor Saalk behind him. In their
eyes, even the first officer's, Holmyard read concern for her.
"Lieutenant, are you all right?"
Holmyard almost laughed aloud. All right?! She was far from
all right. She was caught in a ludicrous and unending circle, her
own personal Mobius Loop, a loop that ensnared her awareness and
that of Q's ...wait a minute... Q? ... Q! ... Q? ... Q? ... Q! Was
the wild frenzy truly over?
"Lieutenant?" George questioned again.
"I'm as all right as I'll ever be, Commodore."
"And Q?"
"Gone."
*****
"I would like to take this opportunity to remind you all of
your oath to uphold the Prime Directive."
George made a special effort to meet gazes with each officer
present on the bridge; Makofsky at the science station, Riley at
engineering, Gelf at weapons, Kyhl at helm, Thornburg at
navigation. He lingered on Titus's eyes, also present, knowing her
talents would be instrumental in his plans; and Saalk, who met the
commodore's gaze as only a Vulcan could. George passed an unspoken
apology to Blasberg via the visual rapport, not entirely amazed at
what he'd learned about the first officer's future from the meld
with Holmyard. And then he looked at her, turning an inward eye to
his thoughts. 'Are you still in there?' A whisper replied, 'Just
the barest of bondings, sir.'
George shook his head to return his attention to the here and
now. "Bridge crew of USS Excalibur, I introduce to you Lieutenant
Bonnie Holmyard, exile from the twenty-fourth century."
"What?"
"How?"
"Why?"
"WHEN?!?!"
"The Prime Directive prohibits me from answering further
questions," George overrode the multiple inquiries. "I can tell you
that Lieutenant Commander Keilah and Lieutenant Holmyard have
exchanged places in time, permanently as far as I can tell."
"Very clever, Commodore," Blasberg said. "You've told us just
enough to secure our confidence and silence, but not enough to
satisfy our respective curiosities."
"Then we have a problem," Riley spoke up. "We can't let on to
anyone extrinsic to this bridge at this moment who Holmyard is or
when she came from."
"Commodore, what about me?" Holmyard had to ask. "Where do I
go? Where do I fit in? Where do I belong?"
George didn't need to be empathic to read the despair Holmyard
was fighting to suppress. "To begin with, Bonnie, I have just made
you a part of us and our secret. And, if all are agreeable, I
intend to make you a full member of this crew, a replacement for
Keilah whom we've lost."
"But we can't just sign her up as if she just popped into
existence," Makofsky said. "In this time, her past, she has no
history, no beginning..."
"Unless we create one for her," Gelf said, realizing why the
ship's records officer was present. She was to be made an
accomplice in the knowledge of Holmyard's origins.
"Alter Starfleet records?!" Titus asked/exclaimed,
simultaneously deducing the logical if unethical course placed
purposefully in her path. "I'm not sure I can do that, Commodore."
"Commander Titus," George said, "Debbie," pause, "you are THE
renowned miracle-worker with records. I suggest we tell the truth
as much as possible, and just alter the dates a little."
"But it'll be too easy to verify Holmyard's files as false,"
Makofsky said. "One quick computer check and she's history...
well... you know what I mean."
"I can format her records to emulate a computer virus," Titus
said, rapidly conceiving of the innovation. "It will appear when a
request for Holmyard's files is detected, display the file, then
erase itself when the request clears the queue. I can piggyback it
into our next download to a starbase mainframe. It will spread
throughout the Memory Prime Datanet through routine channels
completely undetected."
Relief engulfed Holmyard. Once again the Human Equation had
triumphed over Q's designs. "I can't believe you'd do all this for
me."
"And for the Federation," George added. "To uphold the Prime
Directive we can't permit the real truth about you to be commonly
known. You are from our future. For us to develop normally as we
should,' he just stopped himself from glancing at Blasberg, "you
must keep that knowledge to yourself, just as we must keep
knowledge of you to ourselves."
"Turn her over or interfere with our development," Blasberg
mused. "I guess we'll have to accept the lesser of two evils and
keep her."
"With all due respect, Number One," Holmyard said, "and for
now I'm not sure how much respect you're due, but there is evil and
then there is Evil. Believe me, I'm about all the evil you'll ever
want to handle."
THE END
...OR NOT THE END," Q smiled at their bon mot, THAT IS THE
QUESTION...
...OR NOT THE QUESTION, Q.
Q! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN INTERLOPING?!"
LONG ENOUGH, Q. HAVE YOU BEEN PLAYING WITH LESSER SPECIES
AGAIN? THAT IS THE QUESTION.
Q grinned wider. GUILTY.
BUT UNREPENTANT. Q sighed. ONE OF THESE TIMES YOUR LESSER
SPECIES TANGLES ARE GOING TO SURPRISE YOU AND YOU'LL GET STUNG BUT
GOOD.
Q winced as Bonnie's essence throbbed in his awareness. TOO
LATE, Q. I MUST CONFESS I'M TERMINALLY STUNG ALREADY.
THAT SHOULD TEACH YOU A LESSON, BUT WE DOUBT IT WILL.
YOU KNOW ME TOO WELL, Q.
THE CURSE OF BEING OMNISCIENT. EXCEPT, WE SENSE A QUESTION IN
YOU WE CAN'T FATHOM AN ANSWER TO.
REALLY, Q? WHICH QUESTION WOULD THAT BE?
WHAT DO YOU GET WHEN YOU CROSS A BRIDGE WITH A STARSHIP?
Q grinned deviously and replied, WHY, THE OTHER SIDE, OF
COURSE.
YOU SEEM AMUSED BY THAT ANSWER.
IT IS A JOKE.
A JOKE? Q, YOU ALMOST SEEM HUMAN YOURSELF WHEN YOU THINK LIKE
THAT.
Bonnie, my love, see what you've done to me? IT MAY VERY WELL
BE THAT HUMANS ARE MORE LIKE THE Q CONTINUUM THAN WE FIRST
BELIEVED, Q.
*****
And the Adventure Continues...
George/Holmyard out
*****
TSAO!
--
"I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to
the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime."
Leonard Cohen
ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard)